Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 69333 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69333 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
Nash examines the frying pan and the sludge of his burned breakfast.
I smile and say, “Maybe scrape the solids into the trash.”
He gives the pan a dubious glance. “Are you sure we shouldn’t just throw it away?”
“Most certainly not,” says Grandma. “It’s Le Creuset. Give it to me.”
I, meanwhile, start dealing with the empty coffee pot situation. Someone needs to talk a certain rockstar into buying a proper coffee machine for the house. Talk about increasing the morning happiness ratio around here.
I spent the rest of the day working when we returned from the coffee shop and clothes shopping yesterday. And he went for a drive last night to clear his head while Grandma and I watched a movie. There was a vague vibe that he was giving us some space. Probably a smart move when it comes to Grandma. I enjoyed having bonding time with her.
But her footsteps were definitely heard in the hallway at around midnight. She has a lighter step than Nash’s. And she paused outside each of our rooms, as if she was checking we weren’t together. It made me feel sixteen again, when parents at sleepovers would keep a keen eye on us in case we were getting into trouble.
The only reason I heard her was I had trouble getting to sleep. I definitely wasn’t lying awake beating myself up about past mistakes and also thinking about a certain rockstar. There’s really no need for her to worry. Just because he’s rich, hot, famous, funny, and gives me feelings in the chest and pants regions, doesn’t mean I’m going to make bad choices. I respect her health and happiness, and Nash respects the stick.
Today is a bright new day. My focus is on moving forward with my life. Figuring out where I went wrong in the past and learning from it. Owning my shit. Because I am single and happy and staying that way for the foreseeable future.
“I just can’t get used to you without all the hair,” she says. “There were only ever glimpses of your face. But now I can actually see the whole thing.”
“Terrifying, isn’t it?” He grins.
“I’m sure I’ll drop dead at any moment. Be a dear and say something nice at my funeral.”
Nash laughs. “At long last, I’ll be able to tell the world how you were the inspiration for ‘Lady Caroline’.”
“That song has nothing to do with me, and you know it.” Grandma joins him at the sink. “I don’t suppose you’ve given any more thought to talking to Angus?”
He just shakes his head. I haven’t been stalking him online because that would be weird and invasive. Though I did do some light research when he first arrived, and he apparently has a brother with this name. Seems they’re not on talking terms.
“Where did you end up last night?” I ask.
“Dive bar about a couple of hours away. I wanted to see if my new look held up, and it did. Played some pool and ate a burger, and nobody was the wiser.”
“Sounds like an enjoyable evening,” says Grandma. “Why don’t you take June out for breakfast?”
He nods and steps back from the sink. “What a great idea.”
Guess she’s okay with us spending time together so long as it’s not horizontally. Good to know.
Someone knocks on the door.
“Are you expecting company?” asks Nash.
“No.” She heads for the door, leaving the pan sitting in the sink.
“Did you win at pool?” I ask.
“Lost twenty bucks to a couple of local boys.”
“June, Nash, someone is here to see you,” says Grandma, over by the door. The house has an open living area, with the kitchen, dining, and living room together. Noise carries just fine over the polished wood floor.
It’s the lady from the coffee shop yesterday, with the great toned ass. Only now, instead of yoga gear, she’s dressed in upmarket office wear. Nicely draped trousers and a blouse with a bow. And the smile she gives us is both warm and professional. “We missed you at morning meditation, Nash.”
“I was busy cooking breakfast,” he says. “But I should be there tomorrow.”
“Great,” she says. “And this must be June.”
I raise my hand in greeting.
“Molly is our town mayor,” says Grandma.
“She’s also a psychic counselor,” adds Nash. “Isn’t that cool? Said we’d think about coming in for couple’s counseling sometime.”
“That’s an idea.” And not a good one.
Molly keeps right on smiling. “I had a cancelation this morning and you two have been on my mind, so I thought why not just pop around. And because your story moved me, the first session is free.”
“Oh,” I say, because I don’t know what else to say.
Nash nods and blinks. “That is so kind.”
“Psychic counseling. What a wonderful opportunity.” Grandma smiles beatifically. “I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me. Or would you prefer I make myself scarce?”