Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 135300 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 677(@200wpm)___ 541(@250wpm)___ 451(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135300 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 677(@200wpm)___ 541(@250wpm)___ 451(@300wpm)
Love, in Mom’s own odd way.
Today, it’s an olive branch.
“I know the past year has been difficult. Years, really,” Mom says.
Ethan just nods, large and brooding from his seat. Hattie stares wide-eyed at the breakfast extravaganza, which is almost laid out now.
Dish after dish, piled high with everything from Belgian waffles and their fixings to small red smoothies in shot glasses and perfectly folded omelets.
Say what you will, but Elvira and Scott Blackthorn never half-assed hosting a meal in their lives.
“But,” she continues, “I’d like us to move on from the drama and his will.” She looks at me. “Especially you, honey. I want you happy, just like Ethan and Hattie here.”
Hattie giggles as she looks at my brother, who gives Kane the protective big-brother stare.
Dude, enough.
I tug Kane’s hand onto my lap. “Thanks, Mom. You know, I think I’m getting there, and it’s all thanks to Gramps.”
She studies me for a long moment before giving Kane another assessing glance.
“The lake house,” she says.
“The lake house. He didn’t know—he didn’t plan anything—but he made it happen all the same.” I squeeze Kane’s hand. “It’s pretty eye-opening, meeting the love of your life.”
For a second, you can hear the lights hum in the room.
“So I’ve heard,” Ethan says abruptly. “I wondered when you’d get serious and stop dating losers, Sis. It must be serious if he’s here to pass the smell test.”
Ethan leans in like the Neanderthal he is, making a big snorting show of sniffing the air.
I’m so dead.
“I’m here for Margot,” Kane says gruffly, leaning back in his chair, unfazed by my dumbass brother.
Ethan’s big, but Kane is just as broad, and right now they’re two bull moose locking verbal horns.
“Ethan,” Hattie hisses. “Behave.”
“Kane, it’s okay,” I whisper, firing him a glance.
Kane relaxes and smiles. “Your brother’s protective. That’s a good thing.”
“Oh, I’m too hungry for bickering,” Mom says, already moving toward the chef and the food.
“It’s good to have you here,” Dad says, holding out his hand to Kane. “We haven’t met properly yet.”
Technically, they met yesterday when I brought the journal, but that was intense and quick.
No more than the briefest introductions, not with everyone laser-focused on the journal.
Kane levers up out of his seat and takes Dad’s hand with an easy smile. “Kane Saint.”
“Scott Blackthorn,” Dad says. “This spoiled miscreant’s father. Trust me, I made her this way.”
He’s so shameless.
I roll my eyes.
But at least his eyes aren’t flashing with skepticism like with the handful of other guys I’ve brought home. Dad might not have a nose for much besides luxury and investments, but he can tell a man from a boy.
And Kane Saint is no freaking fuckboy like Kelso.
Dad’s warmth tells me he sees a better man.
A real man.
I think that’s why my father’s face tightens and his knuckles turn white as he grips Kane’s hand.
“I must warn you,” he whispers, “if you hurt my daughter, I’ll make sure you pay dearly.”
“Dad, seriously? Can we just be civilized?”
“Scott, listen to her.” Mom glides back to greet Kane with a hug and a kiss on both cheeks. “Don’t listen to him. We just want to see our little girl happy. There’s been too much turmoil in this family for a long time.”
“For Margot, anything,” Kane promises, shooting me a smile that makes my heart flutter.
Only the love of this man saves me from wilting with embarrassment.
Later, Hattie curls up on the sofa with me and stares across the room at Kane.
“Wow, he’s way taller in real life! I knew hockey guys were big, but man…” She whistles dramatically.
“I mean, he’s basically like Ethan, give or take a couple inches.”
“Same for the ego, I bet.” She giggles and blows my brother a kiss. “I told him to play nice, but you know how it is.”
“Let me guess,” I say, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “He doesn’t like him.”
“You’re his little sister. He’s just having a hard time getting over it,” Hattie says apologetically. “Of course, I told him the age difference literally doesn’t matter, but he insists it does.”
“Would you be okay if I hit him on the head with a croissant?” I hold up my pastry, narrowing my eyes. “It’s been a while since we had a food fight.”
“Be my guest,” she assures me. “Maybe you’ll knock something loose that reminds him he’s being ridiculous and overbearing.”
Ethan and Kane are still squaring each other up as they move closer to us.
For a second, I think Ethan wants to embarrass both of us. It’s like watching a loading screen spin, just waiting for something awful to come out of his mouth.
Then he stops and sticks out his hand.
“I wish you both luck, brat,” he says.
“Oh my God,” I mutter, standing to prod my brother in the side. “Really, Ethan?”
But I take his hand anyway and shake, knowing this is about as nice as my brother gets.