Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 88290 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88290 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
“Clumsy?” First I was an old man and now I was clumsy?
“––does things that don’t make a lot of sense,” Kola went on, “but they forget something very important when they’re lookin’ at you.”
“Oh? And what, pray tell, is that?”
He grinned at me. “You hold us all together. Me, Hannah, and especially Dad. You keep him happy and healthy and just, you know…grounded.”
The room was very silent as my son gazed at me.
“He’s not gonna be the same if something happens to you, so maybe let’s not worry about other people and just concentrate on making sure that the bird feeder comes in once you see the first blackbird.”
I growled at him.
“Yeah, super pretty and you hate them.”
“I hate them,” I echoed. “They’re bullies and they’re mean and I refuse to feed them.”
He chuckled as he bent and wrapped his arms around my neck and hugged me. “I know. Plus, you shouldn’t be feeding the birds in the spring anyway. That’s what bugs and worms are for. Am I right?”
“You are right,” I agreed, leaning my head against his.
Hannah kissed my cheek. “You’re irreplaceable, and now…you should get dressed.”
It took a second because I was so happy, both my kids were loving on me, and I had no idea what she was talking about.
“You forgot about the wedding, didn’t you?” She straightened up and scowled at me, and Kola sat down beside me, grimacing like he was embarrassed for me.
“What wedding?”
“Oh crap,” Sam groaned. “Is that today? Why is that today? How is it a New Year’s Eve party if it’s today and not tomorrow?”
“Because it’s not a New Year’s Eve party,” Hannah explained to him. “You and Pa were invited to Louis Grenier’s daughter’s wedding reception.”
I turned in the chair as Jake’s sticky hand hit the table again.
“Will you please just let that thing dry? You’re leaving wet handprints on the wood,” Hannah ordered.
“And it sounds terrible,” Harper said, shaking his head. “The splatty noise is weird.”
“Why’re we going to a wedding reception if we didn’t go to the wedding?”
“Oh, you are going to the wedding,” she assured me. “It’s at St. James Chapel, and that’s at five with the reception starting at seven.”
“It’s a Catholic wedding?” Sam groaned. “Why didn’t I know about this?”
“Because your boss, Tom Kenwood, was supposed to go, but he’s out of the country with his family for the holidays,” Hannah reminded him. “You’re filling in.”
“How do you know all this?” Sam asked her.
She pulled her phone out of her back pocket, turning it around so he could see the calendar app. “Because I read this,” she informed him. “You only read your work one.”
“A wedding?” I grumbled at my husband.
“It’s black tie too,” Kola said, reading from his phone because of course, the same app was on his as well. “So I hope both of your tuxedos are ready to go.”
I made sure they always were, but that wasn’t the point.
“What about a gift?” I asked, suddenly horrified.
“Apparently,” Kola said, reading, “Mr. Kenwood took care of that part a while ago.”
“It does not say that,” I muttered, leaning sideways to see his phone, where my notes were there clear as day—I always used bullet points—that Sam and I were subbing for the Kenwoods and the gift had been purchased and donated to the charity of the bride’s choice. I read on, and there was the venue, The Drake Hotel.
“Oh, Sam,” I groaned, “this is going to be so fancy.”
“The wedding too,” Hannah apprised me. “I mean, St. James Chapel, Dad. It’s beautiful in there. The last time I was at a wedding there with Uncle Aaron––”
“Don’t tell me any more,” Sam groused at her.
“The good news is, it isn't on New Year’s Eve, so you still get to be home with us to ring in the new year,” she said cheerfully, making her eyes big.
Sam looked at her, then Kola, who smiled and gave him a thumbs-up. Harper’s smile was all teeth, and Jake—Jake, as usual, was not paying attention.
“You better get going,” Hannah prodded us. “Don’t want to be the last ones in at the wedding. How would that look?”
Hannah had brushed off both of us in our tuxes once we were dressed, made sure there was a lint roller in Sam’s car, and told us to call on the way home in case they wanted pie.
“Oh, I’m gonna need pie,” Sam assured her.
The chapel was stunning, and we were ushered to the bride’s side and took our seats. My phone vibrated before the ceremony started, and it was Aaron. There was a picture of him next to his pool in Lake Como holding up his wineglass for me.
I texted back that he was an ass.
He told me that he had sent a gift and declined the wedding invitation. Apparently, he said, Tom Kenwood could have simply sent his regrets. But he didn’t.