Total pages in book: 152
Estimated words: 147545 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 738(@200wpm)___ 590(@250wpm)___ 492(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147545 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 738(@200wpm)___ 590(@250wpm)___ 492(@300wpm)
“You were right about your dad. He is an evil bastard.”
Tor nods.
“But you were right about your mom, too. Is she a magician? Because I felt like I loved her by the time we left, but I know that’s not true.”
He smirks. “Yeah, she’s something.”
“It’s so weird, I felt like I could see where you got elements of who you are from both of your parents. I didn’t really consider that before because I liked you and I didn’t like them, so I honestly tried really hard not to even associate you in my mind, but…” I sigh. “I don’t know how to explain what I just experienced. I feel a little mindfucked.”
This doesn’t seem to surprise Tor.
“Your dad didn’t even say anything for most of the dinner, but it was like… she…”
He nods, not even needing me to finish my explanation.
“I think she might be a witch,” I conclude.
He smirks. “Maybe.”
“I was definitely under her spell.”
“Like mother, like son,” he teases, then his hands slide beneath my dress, lazily squeezing my ass. “What did my dad say to you in the study?”
I don’t want to hide things from Tor, but I’d die before telling him what his father said to me. “Not much. I just wanted to thank him. He left before I even thought to, and what he managed to do for me…” I shake my head, relieved I can tell the truth again. “I can’t believe it, Tor. I didn’t think anybody could make that happen. I thought it was too late.”
“It’s never too late,” he tells me. “There’s nothing I can’t fix, Cassie, so if anyone ever tries to fuck with you again, I want you to remember that. Whatever you need… Bring it to me. I’ll handle it.”
I tighten my hold on his neck, leaning closer so I can kiss him. “I love you,” I tell him, and this time I’m not being playful.
“I love you, too,” he murmurs against my lips. “More than you know.”
___
It’s Stepford night in the Pritchard-Walters household.
I spent the morning grocery shopping and preparing for it. I did laundry so I could wear the same dress I wore to dinner last night. Even though I’m in my own house and don’t need to wear shoes, I wear my floral mesh heels as well because I’m committed to the bit.
Tor crossed the family patriarch and convinced his father to do the impossible for me, so that man deserves a fun Stepford night.
I told him I’d come to his family’s Fourth of July bash, too, and that I’d bring something to make his mom happy, so I bought some extra groceries to give myself a few options—well, I bought them with Tor’s credit card. It’s his family’s event, after all.
When Tor arrives at the apartment, I meet him at the door with all the enthusiasm of an overly dutiful housewife. I ask about his day and moon at him like every word he says is the most interesting thing I’ve ever heard. I clasp my hands and bat my eyes to really sell it.
Finally, I make him comfortable at the candle-lit table and serve him the dinner I made. While we eat, I gaze at him lovingly, as if I have a shrine devoted to him in my closet.
To his credit, he never gets creeped out.
After dinner, he retires to the couch to find the movie on streaming. I clean up and fill two glasses full of crushed ice for the fresh lemonade I made earlier.
“Found it,” he announces, pulling the movie up on the screen, then setting the remote down while he waits for me.
“Oh, you’re just so technologically savvy,” I tell him, sweeping my hand across my forehead. “How do I keep my panties on around you?”
He smirks, watching me sashay into the living room with two glasses of lemonade. I put mine down on the coffee table because I plan to make a production of serving him.
“Here’s a nice, cold glass of my Stepford Strawberry Lemonade. It’s always such a hit with the girls. They just love it,” I say with a big smile, doing my best impersonation of over-the-top Southern belle hospitality. I hop right on the couch next to him, curling my legs behind me and running a hand over his chest. “If women were allowed to have ideas, maybe I’d write a cookbook, and this would be the first recipe,” I add with starry-eyed wistfulness. Then, with idea-extinguishing cheerfulness, I conclude, “Ah, well. My place is with my husband.”
Tor has pretty good composure when he wants to, but he’s relaxed now, grinning at my ridiculous Stepford wife portrayal.
I stand back up and move in front of him, then I sit myself on his lap, looping an arm around his neck. “Do you like my lemonade?”
“I love your everything,” he assures me, but since he hasn’t had a taste yet, he takes a sip now. “It’s delicious,” he confirms.