Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 79244 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79244 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
“He’s in a band?” Damen’s paternal grandmother Iris asks, narrowing her hooded eyes.
She’s small, with slim wrists and long fingers, but her blonde hair is coiffed into perfect waves, and her makeup—flawless. In the red dress with sequins all around the collar, she looks ready to deliver a speech after receiving an award for lifetime achievements. Too bad she can barely hear us.
“No, grandmom, I said he’s my husband,” Damen says a bit louder and reaches to her ear. She winces as he presses a switch on her hearing aid and repeats himself.
Painted-on eyebrows rise in confusion as her blue gaze swipes up and down my body. “So he’s a boy? Very short.”
For once, I swallow my pride. She’s in her nineties and allowed to say anything she wants about my height. “It’s nice to meet you, and Merry Christmas!” I say, maybe a bit too loudly, because now she recoils.
I’m too drunk on love to worry though. This is my life. Free snacks, booze on tap, extravagant jewelry, and maybe after Christmas I’ll even learn how to ski, because that’s what I do now. And most importantly, I’ve got Damen’s arm over my shoulders. I’ve never felt more appreciated.
“You can still have babies, don’t worry,” Grandma Iris tells Damen good-naturedly before one of the middle-aged people tempts her with a red velvet hot chocolate.
He glances at me with a silly grin. “Heard that, Killian? We can still have babies.”
“Do you think she knows about surrogates, or is she just confused?”
He puts his strong arm around me, and I know that whatever comes at me in this beautiful den of vipers big and small, he will have my back. “You never know with her. The old lady has worse and better days. It’s a shame Grandma Gladys couldn’t make the trip, but it’s physically a lot for her, so we might be visiting my other grandparents and older relatives next year.”
He’s already planning to show me off. I’m as giddy as the champagne sparkling in my hand. “So no other seniors for me to confuse tonight?” I grin and get to my toes for a quick kiss.
“No,” he says and refills my champagne flute. “But you’re free to confuse everyone else.”
Maybe it’s my look that confused poor Grandma Iris, because I’ve pulled out all the stops tonight. I'm in a black velvet blazer with no shirt underneath, my ink as decoration and the perfect canvas for the gold padlock choker. I told him I’ll die in it. Tonight, I’m just to die for in it. I'm wearing a second necklace, though, this one long and thin, it disappears into my jacket above my navel.
Damen wanted me to be my extravagant self, so why the fuck not? I make sure I hold the glass in my left hand to dazzle everyone with my engagement ring.
High-waisted pants hug my hips, and underneath? That’s for Damen to find out later. I’m also wearing polished boots with an inch of heel because yeah, I do actually care about my height. Hair slicked back completes the look along with dark eyeshadow with some sparkle (it’s Christmas after all).
I’m pleased to note that unlike me, Titus looks positively awful, stuck wearing the fugly blazer with a pixelated print of pigs in Christmas garb. They even have little bells on their heads that jingle. He moves around the room, following his wife, who in turn clearly doesn’t want to risk ending up in a photo with him. He would have cheated and stopped wearing the thing by now if it wasn’t for the fact that his loss in the knife-throwing contest was very much public, and it’s better to give one’s wife the ick than be seen as dishonorable by other men.
Straights. I’ll never understand them.
At least Samantha is having the time of her life with a few other people as they prepare for a game of charades. She seems much less bothered by the failed matchmaking than Uncle Roger.
The party is in full swing, and when I spot Aspen sneaking punch into a flask, I roll my eyes. I guess it’s not like he’ll be driving anywhere tonight. I’m more alarmed when I see him pass that flask to an even younger cousin of Damen’s.
I’m twenty-one. Am I old enough to wag my finger and tell them it’s wrong?
Nah.
And to be honest? Aspen is a wild card. I’m not fooled by his Christmas getup of a golden tracksuit with red sequin stripes on the sides. I don’t want to be on his bad side.
A whisper comes my way from one of the tables, and when I look that way, I spot Damen’s mom locking eyes with her husband. “This isn’t the right water. I told you we need alkaline!”
“There’s nothing better than fresh spring water,” Karl argues, and when she scowls, looking around, he lowers his tone. “I’m not overpaying for some bullshit again.”