Total pages in book: 160
Estimated words: 153268 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 766(@200wpm)___ 613(@250wpm)___ 511(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 153268 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 766(@200wpm)___ 613(@250wpm)___ 511(@300wpm)
Our eyes met, and she looked somber all of a sudden. We were both transported back to the night she’d caught us together. “I’m not doing anything to jeopardize our friendship ever again.” I swallowed hard.
“You wouldn’t be jeopardizing anything. I hereby give you permission to pork my brother. Just please spare me the details. I’m dealing with awful reflux as it is.”
I thought back about Row saying Dylan had told him she wouldn’t mind if we hooked up. My stomach twisted. I was running out of excuses not to act on this attraction.
“He seems like a player.” I began itching away the cool, damp sheet on my face. “And even if I went for something casual, I’d only be down for exclusivity.”
“If Row’s a player, his game is hard to get.” Dylan snorted. “And he’s really good at it. Don’t believe what all the tabloids say. He isn’t much of a manwhore.”
“So you wouldn’t be mad if we…?” I left the rest hanging.
Dylan stood up, waltzing over to the bathroom and returning with a damp, warm cloth, scrubbing away at her mask. Seeing her in a bikini was jarring. She looked like a pregnant supermodel. “Nope. Cross my heart and hope Tuck dies—I promise I’ll be totally okay with that.”
“Why?” My nose twitched.
“I love you both and I want to see you happy.”
“Can your brother really ever be happy?” I asked, thinking about everything Row had been through.
“I don’t know.” Dylan gnawed on her lower lip. “But if anyone can make him happy, it’s you.”
“Well…banana gives me heartburn.” I pursed my lips.
Dylan tipped her head back and laughed. “Just as long as it doesn’t give you heartbreak.”
CAL
Cal: Hi.
Row: Hey.
Cal: Can I show you something?
Row: Is that something going to end up in my spank bank or with me bailing both of us out of jail?
Row: Either way the answer is yes, I just like to be prepared.
Cal: It’s a rough draft for one of my podcast episodes. I wrote the layout, bullet points, etc.
Row: Show me.
Cal: Will you tell me if it sucks?
Row: Abso-fucking-lutely. I made a career out of putting people down.
Row: It’s the sole reason for my success. I actually barely know how to operate a microwave. Best kept secret. Don’t tell.
Cal:
Row: BRB.
Cal: It’s twenty pages. Obviously, take your time.
Row: I’m done.
Cal: ???
Cal: It’s been twenty-five minutes and it’s the middle of the night.
Row: Sucked me in. Your fault, really.
Cal: Are you saying that it’s good?
Row: I’m saying that it’s perfect.
Row: Exhilarating, funny, sad, heart-wrenching. Should I continue?
Cal: Really? Because I plan to use it for one of my first five episodes.
Row: Record the podcast, Dot, and I promise you I’ll be your first listener.
CAL
“All I Want for Christmas Is You”—Mariah Carey
The Christmas lighting in the town’s square was the grandest event in all of Staindrop. Even as a kid, I remembered it as a monumental occasion.
There were always food trucks, visitors from neighboring towns, a countdown, and one time the mayor had even managed to bring an actor who body-doubled for Sharon Stone to flip the switch.
Skipping didn’t even cross my mind. Even though seeing Allison Murray always guaranteed an internal meltdown for me. The only reason I’d survived Row’s town hall meeting with her sitting up there on the podium was because Dylan had held my hand through it.
But Mamushka loved seeing the lights go up, and she’d knitted us matching red-and-green mittens for the occasion. Besides, Dylan had gotten the all-clear from her ob-gyn to attend, and I knew she wanted me there.
“Your father came to me in a dream,” Mamushka announced as we strolled toward Main Street. Our arms were linked, and we were wearing big faux-fur ushankas and puffy coats.
“He did?” My mouth quirked into a smile. “What did he say?”
Mom pressed her lips together, fighting a grin. “Know how I’ve been debating whether to start my mitten business or go back to teach another year?” she asked.
I nodded. Mamushka taught math at the local high school.
“Well, I didn’t tell you this, but when we went to spread his ashes in Moxie Falls, I asked him to give me a sign. Something to let me know it’s time.”
“And?” Our feet crunched the thin layer of ice on the pavement.
“And when you went to pee behind the bushes, a feather landed in the palm of my hand. I tucked it into my bag. They say that when feathers appear, angels are near.”
It was just like me to miss this monumental moment because I’d overindulged with a venti pumpkin spice latte and nature had called.
Mom continued. “The feather felt meaningful, but I couldn’t tell for sure. Well, yesterday, in my dream, your father told me it was a stork’s feather. And that storks represent new beginnings. Like the one I should have. I googled stork feathers and compared the one I kept. It matched.”