Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 76541 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76541 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
“Okay.”
“Now… what do you want to do today?” I ask.
She ponders a moment, letting her gaze drift up to the car ceiling before grinning at me with a twinkle in her eye that I don’t often see.
“Can we just hang out at your house?” she asks. “Maybe bake some cookies, make a fort in the living room, and watch movies. We can wear our pajamas and have a junk day.”
Junk day.
My favorite tradition with Hope. It’s where we eat the worst of all junk foods and lounge around like bums, which includes watching movies, doing crafts, or even just talking about silly things like which Paw Patrol pup we’d want with us if we were stuck on a deserted island.
I say Chase because he could catch food with his contraptions, but she says Skye because she could just fly us off the island in her helicopter. Yes, my child is smarter than I am.
“Okay,” I say with a nod, more than okay with this plan. My kid doesn’t want fancy lunches, to shop for pretty clothes, or to go bowling.
She just wants to hang out with me, and I can’t think of a single thing in my life that could be better.
CHAPTER 11
Asher
I pick up my mug, then finish the last of my coffee. It’s my second cup, but not my last. I have a slight caffeine addiction.
Glancing at the clock on my desk, I wonder when Hannah will arrive. I chose to work from home this morning for the sole purpose of seeing her, if only for a few moments.
Really, I only need a glimpse. Just a few words. Perhaps reassurance that she’s still committed to this job. I’m more than a little pissed she has weekends off and beyond frustrated I couldn’t spend the last few days playing with my new employee at The Wicked Horse.
Oh, I tried to play at the club without Hannah, but that didn’t quite work out liked I’d hoped. I spent a few lonely hours there Saturday night, finding that not one woman or orgy in progress interested me. Everything looked… dull.
Uninspiring.
I left frustrated and went home, jacking off to thoughts of Hannah before I went to bed.
I spent Sunday afternoon over at Christina’s hoping good food, football, and conversation would at least keep my mind occupied. Normally any time spent with my twin passes by in what seems like a matter of moments. Our bond makes it so we never have a lack of things to discuss, but Christina could see I was preoccupied. She asked me about it a few times, and I had to lie to her. When I said I was mired in a complex property swap, she seemed to accept it.
Outwardly, that is. Inside, my twin knew I was lying but didn’t call me on the carpet in front of her husband, Jack. She’d never call me out about anything in front of someone else because we always have each other’s backs.
Now, she’d totally do it in private and has on many, many occasions. Even though I often don’t want to hear a damn thing critical she has to say to me—especially if it involves all the ways I’ve changed since Michelle died—I always respect that her love for me is what causes her to care so much. Which is why I can tolerate my sister’s antics.
For example, Christina invited a “friend” over to eat with us on Sunday. And by friend, I mean a beautiful, single female who was incredibly outgoing, intelligent, and engaging.
I made it almost through the third quarter of the game before I faked an important business text that necessitated an emergency trip into the office. Christina’s friend bought it, but my sister did not.
She followed me out to my car and “called me on the carpet”. “Come on, Asher. What could possibly be wrong with Simone? She’s perfect, and you should ask her out.”
“Not interested,” I’d muttered as I unlocked my car, refusing to engage in this age-old debate.
I tried to open the door, but Christina leaned her entire body against it, stubbornly crossing her arms over her chest. Her look was pointed and concerned. “It’s been five years.”
“Not lost on me,” I gritted out. “You remind me often.”
“Because I love you and want you to be happy again.”
“I am happy,” I pointed out. “Incredibly happy being single. Why can’t you accept that?”
Her smile was sad when she stepped away from my car, making a sweeping motion with her hand that told me I could leave. Her last words struck me hard. “Because I know you, and you are not happy. What you are is protecting yourself. It’s going to make you miss out on something amazing one day.”
When she paused, I leaned in to kiss her on her cheek. “I love you for caring. But please… stop trying to push me in a direction I don’t want to go.”