Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 132097 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 660(@200wpm)___ 528(@250wpm)___ 440(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132097 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 660(@200wpm)___ 528(@250wpm)___ 440(@300wpm)
My parents send a car to pick us up from the private airport, and we arrive at their Long Island estate a little while later.
Even I forget it’s so ostentatious it’s stunning every time I come back here.
The elegant wrought-iron gate opens to a long driveway lined with pear trees and well-sculpted hedges circling the house, which is vaguely colonial with modern touches.
Perfect for the image my parents like to project.
Refined. Classy.
Old money, even though they never earned a penny of it themselves, and by East Coast blue-blooded standards, Gramps was a baby in the money game.
Hattie changed into her dress just before we landed.
She’s all fire beside me, even though tension radiates from her shoulders, and her mouth sets in a firm line.
“Relax. I promise you’ll come out of this alive, Pages,” I whisper roughly.
“Easy for you to say,” she hisses back.
“You’ve met my parents before. They haven’t changed.” I wrap the leash around my hand as we step out with Ares. Amazingly, the old dog tries to break away to chase a butterfly. He’s surprisingly spry when he wants to be. “It’s not a big deal unless you make it one.”
“You keep saying that, Ethan. But you don’t know what this means. It’s different.”
I roll my eyes. “Or maybe you need to stop being so uptight.”
“And maybe you need to learn how to be considerate.”
“You met them dozens of times when we were kids,” I remind her with a snort.
“Um, I met them like ten times over the years. They never came to Portland to pick up Margot, remember? Half the time when I’d visit her here, they were gone somewhere. And I definitely wasn’t supposed to be your fiancée then.”
“There’s no supposed. Get it right.” I scowl. “You are my fiancée and you’d best start believing it if we want to convince everyone we can tolerate each other’s presence for more than ten goddamned seconds.”
It’s clear as day she doubts it just as much as I do.
Maybe more.
Which shouldn’t sting.
Neither of us chose this fuckery. But it seems like all the money in the world and a shiny new bookstore can’t win her over.
“I’ll be right here. Won’t leave you alone for a second. It’s going to be fine,” I say as we climb the stone stairs to the porch.
Ares objects and I have to pull the leash to coax him up on his stubby legs.
There’s barely time to grab her hand before Dad throws open the door.
“Ethan!” he says cheerfully, stepping back and letting us both in. “And Hattie Sage, how long has it been? Great to see you both.”
Hattie blushes. “Thank you, sir.”
“It’s Scott to you and the rest of the world,” Dad says jovially. “Want a drink to unwind from your flight? Come pick your poison—we have anything you like. The latest wine just came in from our favorite place in Napa.”
“Some water would be lovely.” Hattie looks at me with a wooden smile.
Dad’s smile doesn’t shift. “Coming right up. Ethan?”
“Whiskey,” I say. “The usual Irish stuff. Nothing fancy.”
“No, never. A man of simple tastes.” He winks.
God, this charade is going to be painful, and I don’t just mean the pretend engagement.
Everyone’s playing their parts today, including my artificially happy and loving parents, so well it turns my stomach.
As Dad goes to fetch our drinks, Mom floats toward us from the kitchen, searching desperately when she hears Ares’ nails clicking the floor.
“Oh, there he is!” She bends down, ruffling Ares’ long ears. “So glad you brought him, Ethan.”
“What choice did I have? Didn’t want any blood on my hands.” I bend down to kiss her cheek.
“Ohhh, big boy. What a little baby,” Mom coos. “Do you want some nice cheese?”
“Mom.” I clear my throat pointedly. “This is Hattie.”
She starts and looks up from smothering Ares with kisses.
Then she gives Hattie a long once-over, slowly taking in the dress, the shoes, the elegantly curled hair and the flawless makeup.
A genuine smile curves her lips.
“Hattie, dear,” she says fondly. “You’ve grown up and you look wonderful.”
She inhales deeply, holding a breath as she gives my mom a hug. “Thanks! I love Fig dresses, they’re becoming an addiction,” she lies effortlessly.
“Oh, yes.” Mom beams. “Always so elegant and original. You should meet him if you get a chance, the man’s a treasure.”
For a second, my girl looks deranged, stunned into silence.
That’s the thing about Mom. Even though she loves all the finest things in life and loves to make sure everybody knows it, she doesn’t know shit about them.
Yes, she can smell money from twenty miles away, but the qualities that separate the expensive from the cheap elude her.
All she cares about is the price tag or the awe-inspiring name.
“It’s fabulous to see you again. Wow, I think the last time was Margot’s graduation party?” Hattie says, still practically rigid from stress beside me.