Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 67733 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 339(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67733 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 339(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
“Do you know how long I’ve been waiting to do that?” Big T triumphantly grins in an alarming nature.
“Since we bloody met.” I rub the now throbbing spot at the same time she nods in agreement. “The question is why have you finally done it?”
“Gabs told me to.”
Shifting my gaze to where her girlfriend is sitting cross-legged on the coffee table directly across from me is done immediately.
Gabby innocently shrugs. “You wouldn’t wake up when I tried.”
“What did you try?”
“Oh, oh que quieres decir, que yo intente?” She sarcastically mocks. “What do you think I tried? I told your ass to wake up.”
Yeah.
Sounds like tried-and-true best mate bullshit.
“Your dad’s calling.” Gabby shakes my cell in front of my closing green eyes, preventing them from resuming their previous position. “Again.”
“What do you mean again?”
“Did you forget how to speak English?” She tries her to best to tease. “Again means it’s already happened at least once.”
In no condition for her or her antics or really anything that isn’t more sleep than the two hours I’ve probably gotten, I grouse, “Not in the mood, Gabby.”
“Well, get in the fucking mood or get off my fucking couch.”
“I think you should fucking phrase that shit differently,” Big T gripes from where she’s standing beside the table.
“And I think he scared the shit out of me last night, so we need to talk about it.”
Worry wastes no time seeping into my stare. “What did I do?”
“You were belligerent drunk,” she quickly informs. “Like I’ve seen you fucked up, and I’ve seen you fucked up, but I have never seen you fucked up.” If it weren’t for the different tones used, it might be harder to follow. “I was so worried I called your fucking mom.”
“I actually wasn’t that drunk.” Forcing myself into a sitting position is followed by an exhausted sigh. “It’s just when I’m that pissed, the Irish side takes over, and when there’s not an Irish word for the one that I want, instead of taking a bloody English word like I normally do, I pull a Spanish one, so to anyone who doesn’t speak both or isn’t me, I just sound like an incoherent arse.”
“Definitely.” Gabby nods in verification.
“What had you so hot?” Big T asks as she folds her arms across her chest.
I don’t want to talk about it.
Not now.
Damn sure not without having coffee or tea first.
“He kept rambling on about fucking shit up and wing tipped shoes, so I’m guessing something to do with Harper.” Her stare finds mine again. “Sí?”
Okay maybe I was a little drunker than I thought if I spent that much time talking shit about Daniel’s dumb shoes.
When I don’t respond, she shoves my cell towards me, forcing me to take it. “You don’t wanna talk to me about the shit yet, fine, but do talk to your family. They’re worried. And we both know what overly worried Latina moms do. I don’t want that shit. Do you?”
There’s no hesitation in shaking my head.
“Yeah, I didn’t think so.” Gabby pops up onto her converse covered feet. “We’re gonna go grab breakfast. Want us to bring you something back?”
I shake my head again.
She does her best to smile, a sentiment severed short by Big T’s comment. “You get one more night on our couch and then your ass better find a Best Western.” To my surprise, my best mate pins her feisty girlfriend in place with a displeased glare until she backtracks. “Never mind. Stay uh…stay as long as you need.” Gabby nods in victory and heads towards the door leaving her girlfriend to quietly mumble, “But don’t fucking need that long, asshole.”
Shortly after their exiting, my phone begins lighting up again for a video chat with Dad. I give the side of my face a defeated scrub, let out another big sigh, and hit the answer button only to be met by the underside of his chin.
“I’m tryin’, Rosa!” He yells to Mom off screen. “Give him a chance to wake up from too many pints.”
“More whiskey than pints,” I chime in, collecting his attention. Before he can even investigate, I add, “Didn’t drive. Got a Lyft.”
Dad starts walking towards the kitchen table. “From who?”
“Not a lift. I paid for a rideshare.”
A small grin of comprehension precedes him settling in his kitchen seat. “You had sweet little Gabby worried, you know?”
Their loving her like she’s their daughter is the last thing I need right now.
Oh.
A daughter.
I know the likeliness of what Harper’s having isn’t a daughter, but what if it is?
What if I fucked up my first chance at being a father already by letting down her mother while she’s still…baking?
Giving my forehead a concerned rub causes Dad to grunt. “Oh, I know that move.”
Our eyes momentarily lock.
“A shealbhú ar nóiméad.”
The command to hold on a moment receives an unbothered blink.