Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 132951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 665(@200wpm)___ 532(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 665(@200wpm)___ 532(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
“Connor,” Mother chastises.
I wish I’d devised a signal so Mildred knew when to stay put. Unfortunately, my focus was not where it should have been leading up to today. Mildred abandons the safety of her friends and heads for me.
And of course, because this day isn’t enough of a shitstorm, my father moves to stand beside my mother.
Mildred steps right into the viper pit.
I extend my hand when she’s close enough, and she slips her warm, soft palm in mine. I bring her hand to my lips, immediately comforted by her presence and the contact. I wrap a protective arm around her waist and pull her to my side.
“Darling, I’d like you to meet my parents. This is my mother, Courtney, and my father, Duncan.”
“It’s such an honor to meet both of you,” she says warmly. “Thank you so much for hosting our engagement party.”
“I thought it was a good way to ensure we’d meet you before the big day,” Mother says. “Connor can be quite secretive when it comes to his significant others.”
“I haven’t been secretive. They just haven’t been significant enough to introduce,” I correct.
Mildred accepts air hugs and kisses from them.
There’s a slightly pregnant pause as everyone waits for me to introduce my brothers-in-law.
Julian steps forward. “Connor’s forgotten his manners, apparently. I’m Julian, Isabelle’s husband, and this is Bryson.”
“Portia’s husband, right?” Mildred shakes Bryson’s hand, and I want to break it.
“That’s right.”
“They’re both so sweet,” Mildred replies.
“They’re both very well behaved,” Father says, like a clueless fucking idiot.
“They’re not dogs. They’re grown fucking women,” I snap.
“Connor! Your language, please.” Mother is already exasperated. “You’d think you were raised in a barn.”
“Might have been better for you if that had been the case.” I drain the rest of my scotch.
Mildred breaks the tense silence. “I lived in a shed for a couple of months—not quite a barn, but probably similarly unpleasant.”
“On purpose?” Julian asks, like the tactless dolt he is. “Were you homeless?”
“At the time I was not unhomed, no.” Mildred links her arm with mine and rests her cheek on my bicep.
Today probably constitutes the most physical contact I’ve had in years that didn’t lead to emotionless sex or a hockey fight. It’s uncomfortable, but I don’t dislike it. Also, does that mean Mildred was unhomed at one point?
Mildred tips her chin up, her smile impish. “I don’t think I’ve told you this story yet. But when I moved from Barrie to Toronto for university, I didn’t realize not all ‘above the garage’ apartments were created equal, so I shared my accommodations with the neighborhood raccoon until I found something a little less…rustic.”
“It’s unfortunate you didn’t have anyone to guide you. You’ve come so far, haven’t you?” Mother’s gaze swings my way. “From living in sheds with vermin to being engaged to a hotel heir.”
“It has been quite the adventure so far,” Mildred agrees smoothly while I bristle at the insinuation.
“I’m sure.” Mother nods her agreement. “Connor tells us you’re a librarian.”
“A professional reader,” Julian murmurs into his glass. “What a challenging career.”
“Would be for you,” I snap.
But Mildred ignores the dig. “That’s right. I work at Toronto Central.”
“So you’re a government employee,” Bryson clarifies.
“Um, yes?” Mildred replies.
“The government system has become so bloated,” Julian says.
“With so much staff, some of them have to be freeloaders,” Father agrees. “In cushy jobs with inflated salaries.”
Mildred’s eyes widen. “I don’t know that I would call my salary inflated or my job cushy, but you obviously have strong feelings about it.”
“Well, I just hope your workplace is safe. So many libraries are public spaces that vagrants and the dregs of society abuse,” Father explains, like an asshole.
“That’s a biased and elitist view,” I counter.
“Easy to complain when this elitism affords you your life,” Father reminds me.
Which is a joke, because my parents cut me off as soon as I signed my first pro hockey contract. “You have no idea what Mildred’s job is. She runs multiple community outreach programs, and much of the work around those happens outside regular hours.” I saw the paperwork spread out on her kitchen table. And Meems has told me all about Mildred’s work after her library visits. “Mildred gives back to her community every single day, in meaningful ways that take more effort than cutting a check, so maybe do some fact-checking before you insult my fiancée.”
“He’s so passionate about my work.” Mildred squeezes my arm and settles her other hand on my chest, mirth in her eyes. “Everyone is entitled to their opinion, even if it is misinformed. You don’t need to start a brawl in my honor. Especially not with your father, or in front of your Meems.”
“You’re right, darling.” I tuck a finger under her chin. “I should save my bad behavior for the bedroom.”
Her eyebrow lifts. “I think you mean the ice.”