Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 91461 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91461 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
It was nice the way he complimented his two best friends even as he explained things to his sister. And no, he hadn’t been there, but he knew them well enough to understand what part each played, as he knew their strengths.
Heavy sigh from her, and I breathed one of relief. All her life she’d been listening to her brother about things. More than any other person on the planet he could always, always, get her to see whatever absurd logic could be found in any given situation.
“Look, Wick’s a rock and all, but he’s gettin’ tired.”
“I know.”
“Thanks, man,” Wick murmured.
“So come on. We’ll use putty to make sure the lines are good before we put on the brackets. Did you get wall-mounted lights for the bottom that we can just press on and off?”
“Yeah, the ones with the solar panel like Uncle Dane suggested so I don’t have to worry about batteries all the time.”
I glanced at my brother.
“The environment is very important,” he explained.
“Yes, it is,” I agreed.
“So get down before you give Wick a hernia.”
“I am not heavy,” she grumbled at him.
“No, but Jake is.”
“Hey.” Jake sounded affronted. “Hurtful.”
Hannah let out a huff of air, sprang off Jake’s shoulders without rocking him at all, and dropped down into Kola’s arms. He caught her like she weighed nothing and placed her safely on the ground.
“I was going to do that,” Sam told his son.
“Nope, heads up, I need you for Jake,” Kola said, chuckling as he and his father easily caught his best friend and put him on his feet.
Wick was already climbing down, with Harper and Finn holding everything steady so he could descend without issue.
Sam bent over, took a breath, and then strode across the floor to Dane, who offered him a schematic drawn on a paper towel by Jake for him to look at. There was also a star that Harper had drawn, because I knew what those looked like, that told me he approved the math, and finally Dane’s scribble, which, when Sam held it up for me and Aja, we could both see was his blocky numbers and letters. The geometry written out there was to confirm to us all that the tower of terror would have held up all day. The only variables he couldn’t account for were Wick’s legs and Jake’s back. He had, I was certain, counted on Hannah’s balance.
“I really hate him,” Sam told Aja when he returned to us.
“Oh I know,” she said cheerfully.
The reason we were even visiting Hannah and the boys’ new place—Aja said that the guys sounded like they were Hannah’s backup singers—to begin with was that we were going to Duncan and Aaron’s for Valentine’s Day dinner with at least thirty other people. They had invited us, Dane and Aja, and Dylan and Chris to a fancy evening at their penthouse overlooking Millennium Park. Unfortunately, Chris had fallen off a ladder cleaning the gutters the week before, because, Dylan reported, he thought he was still in his thirties instead of his fifties, and broken his leg. She felt bad about leaving him, so she would be home with him instead of at dinner with us. Although, according to her, he was being a real ass, and a night out sounded good. But still, in sickness and in health and all that. Plus, Valentine’s Day. And… I knew Aaron. He was a good man, and I was certain he was sending something to Chris and Dylan so they could enjoy their night at home together. He was a closet romantic, after all.
Once Hannah was back on the ground, she showed me how she had set up her and Jake’s room. He had one side of the walk-in closet; all the rest was Hannah’s. They had one guest room, and all the closet space in there was hers as well. She still had closets full at home too. I was forever getting calls that began with, “Could you go upstairs and see if you can find…” and then I’d have to get on FaceTime and play hunt for the dress, or pants, or strange asymmetrical sweater. I didn’t really mind, and when I wasn’t home, she and her father had fun conversations about colors like aubergine and chartreuse. Oh to be a fly on the wall.
I liked all the organizational pieces she got for the kitchen, and I noted that she still had my red Le Creuset Dutch oven she borrowed two weeks prior.
“I’m making pot roast for you guys next Tuesday to return it to you.”
“Okay. Sounds good,” I said, squinting at her.
“You’re the one who told me to never return a pot empty.”
“That’s actually your grandmother’s rule, but I like it.”
She grinned at me. “I won’t be coming alone. Where food goes, boys follow.”
“That’s fine. I’ll make a salad and dessert.” Her nodding was adorable, and when I saw her eyes fill, I eased her in close. “What’s wrong, bunny?”