Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 121054 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 605(@200wpm)___ 484(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121054 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 605(@200wpm)___ 484(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
I shot to my feet. “It was you poking the badger! I told you, more than once, not to mention the prenup. It’s not something people back home do!”
“It’s not my fault that your mother can’t see the difference between a small-town marriage and the dissolution of a legal union wherein billions of dollars would be in dispute.” He had the nerve to sound frustrated with me.
“She knows the difference. It’s just taboo to some people still, okay?” I huffed. “I’m not saying it’s right, and I’m not saying I don’t want one. But you didn’t need to tell my mom our private business just because you wanted to drive her out.”
“I was not trying to drive her out,” he insisted emphatically.
“Oh, bullshit. You were totally annoyed that she was here.”
He put down the knife and braced his hands on the edge of the island. “Fine. I was annoyed that she was here. I realize that I agreed to her staying here, but I can’t take much more of this.”
“More of what? Mom being around? Did you think she was going to just live in the guest house and stop by for Christmas?” I demanded.
“I expected she would at least stop letting herself in once she moved out there. I’m tired of worrying that she’s going to walk in while I’m jerking off.” He pointed toward the door in accusation. “She came into our bedroom looking for you the other day, and I was practically naked.”
I rolled my eyes. “She said you left the door open. And you weren’t ‘practically naked’, you were shirtless.”
“It was more naked than I would have liked to be in front of your mother!” he shot back, raising his voice considerably. “I should be allowed to be fully nude in my bedroom with the door open if I want to be. What kind of a person just strolls into someone else’s bedroom? Your family has no boundaries!”
“Oh, excuse me!” I matched his volume. “I don’t think a guy who had to run the plans for his will by his ex-girlfriend has any room to lecture on the topic of personal boundaries.”
“Don’t you dare bring that up, Sophie. We put that behind us. It’s not fair!”
“Fine! I rescind that example and substitute another.” I glared at him. “How about all the times we had to worry about whether or not your adult daughter who was living with us was going to overhear us doing it? How many times did that happen? Because it seems like it was a lot.”
He didn’t immediately respond, so I went on, “I know what’s wrong with you lately, okay? You’re upset because you know Stephen’s book is in the house, and you’re just waiting for it to pop out and scare you.”
The furrow of his brow and the hard set of his jaw told me that he wanted to stay angry. He turned away from me. “I stopped drinking.”
In the second that I was too shocked to speak, I did some mental math. Neil had been super cranky for a couple of weeks now. I’d noticed that he’d cut back a lot. He hadn’t been drinking wine at dinner, and he’d only had two drinks at his birthday party, which was usually a boozy celebration.
“You didn’t notice.” It wasn’t petulant of him to say so. It wasn’t like I’d failed to pick up on weight loss or a haircut. This was major.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Maybe that sounded like an allegation, but it was the first thing that burst from my mouth. “I could have helped you. We could have gotten through this part together.”
I drank wine with dinner last night. I asked him if he wanted a beer last weekend.
“I wanted to see if it would be noticeable.” He shrugged it off. “I suppose that’s the answer.”
“No, Neil, it’s noticeable.” Not in the way he probably wanted it to be noticeable. “You’re kind of…”
“Go ahead,” he said cautiously.
“You’re really cranky.” I held up my hands and dropped them. “I thought you were just upset about the book.”
“I am upset about the book.” His eyebrows rose and he blinked a few times as he took in a prolonged breath. “That’s why I stopped now. Doctor Harris has been trying to get me to quit entirely. He wanted me to do that from the beginning. It probably would have been easier.”
“How long have you been…off the sauce?” Ugh, could I have picked a worse way to phrase that?
“My last drink was the whiskey at my birthday party. I thought it would be fitting; new year, new beginning.” He went back to cutting up vegetables. His voice lower, he added, “I’m sorry I’ve been acting the way I have. It’s not an excuse.”
“It kind of is,” I argued, but gently. “Alcohol was one of your coping methods. Now, you’re having to endure stress and little daily frustrations without any kind of emotional release.”