Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 93575 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 468(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93575 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 468(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
I sat down, and he lifted the lid. He chuckled. “Breakfast?”
“I love breakfast for dinner.”
“Well, enjoy.”
I stopped him from leaving, not wanting him to go yet. “Stay.”
He hesitated.
“Andi always orders me too much. Eat with me. Look,” I said, lifting lids. “I have pancakes and eggs, bacon and hash browns. Toast. She even added sausage. I’ll never eat all this. Please.”
He sat down, eyeing up the feast. “Only one fork.”
I picked up a piece of bacon, biting down on the salty, delicious morsel. “We can improvise.”
He picked up a sausage, rolling it in a pancake and dipping it in the syrup. “Okay, Shortcake, you win.”
I poured a cup of coffee, automatically adding the cream, a touch of sugar, and pushing it his way. “There you go, Mr. Hotshot Movie Star.”
He sipped it and grinned. “Told you you’d be getting me coffee again.”
I laughed. “I guess you did.”
As we ate, he asked questions. “You mentioned siblings.”
“A brother and sister.”
“Are you the baby?”
“Yes.”
“Do they have the same disorder?”
“No. We’re not blood siblings.” At his curious expression, I explained.
“My mom already had my sister when she met my dad. He adopted Sammy after they got married. Then they adopted Reed. Then me.”
“Wow.”
I nodded around a mouthful of toast. “Reed was older than Sammy, so she is really the middle child. We tease her about that all the time. She went from number one to the invisible one. And if you met her, you’d know she is anything but invisible.”
Nicholas chuckled.
“Do you have siblings?”
He shook his head. “Nope. Just me. I think my agent is the closest thing to family I have. She is also my business manager.”
“Have you known her a long time?”
“I can’t recall not knowing her. She is like a sister to me. Or at least…” He trailed off with a shrug. “She was.”
“Ah.”
He chewed and swallowed, then frowned. “We certainly argue like siblings. She watches out for me, though.” He paused. “I think.”
“You think?”
“MJ is always on the lookout for number one. I’m well aware that isn’t me anymore. But she does a good job, so I guess I can’t complain. I haven’t always been the easiest client for her.”
“Certainly one of her most famous.”
He shrugged. “Famous or infamous? Sometimes I wonder.”
Before I could question him more, he changed the subject back to me.
“Were you close growing up? With your siblings?”
I huffed out a long breath. “Once I settled into the family, yes. We grew close. My brother was my protector. So was Sammy. They watched over me. Given my history and the issues I had, they were cautious.”
“Issues?” He pushed away the plates between us, regarding me with his serious expression. “What kinds of issues?”
“It’s not really pleasant conversation,” I replied. “I don’t want to bore you with it.”
“I’d like to know. I guarantee you, Mila. Nothing about you is boring.”
I blinked at his words.
“Maybe we can move to the sofa at least and get comfortable.”
He stood, offering me his hand. “Okay.”
Nicholas
Mila looked nervous as she curled into the corner of the sofa. Her color had returned to her face, and I had made sure she ate well, secretly thrilled at the fact that she loved breakfast for dinner. I did as well. It was something I could cook for myself and was fast and easy. We had that in common. I had a feeling we had more in common than she realized.
“So, you were adopted?”
“Yes.”
“How old were you?”
“Three.”
“Did your parents die?”
She huffed out a sigh. “My father walked away from us. My mother never wanted me. She was a drug addict and died not long after Van and Liv took me in. She couldn’t be bothered with me, really. I don’t recall a lot except being cold, hungry, and scared all the time.”
I frowned, reaching for her hand. “I’m sorry.”
She shrugged. “I was pretty young, so my memories aren’t very clear.”
“Was she—” I had to swallow before asking “—abusive?”
“Not physically. She yelled a lot—I remember that. Ignored me. Refused to touch me unless she had to. She was far too busy trying to figure out how to score her next hit than worry about things like feeding me or keeping me clean. I recall being locked in a closet a lot. She used to forget to unlock the door at times.” Mila fidgeted a little.
I had to physically hold myself back. I could picture a baby Mila. Sweet, scared, locked in the dark. Lonely and afraid. Often the way I felt as an adult.
The list of things we had in common grew.
“I remember how it felt the first time Liv, my mom, gave me a bath. She sang to me, washed my hair. Dressed me in warm pj’s and tucked me in. Left a light on so I felt safe. I hated the dark back then. It felt so strange to feel clean. To be touched. I craved it.” She smiled sadly, looking at our hands. “I still do.”