Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 104657 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 523(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104657 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 523(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
It was a wild week of socializing with family and friends while still attending classes. Bachelor and bachelorette parties were usually weeks before the wedding, not days. But most of the bridal party was from out of town, and Victoria wanted at least two days to recover. That’s why the parties were on a Thursday. Rehearsal Saturday. Wedding Sunday, because it was cheaper. And back to school on Monday—no honeymoon.
“Dinner tomorrow night?” he asked.
I shook my head as the bus turned onto the street a few blocks away from us. “Bridal shower.”
“On a Friday night?”
“Yes.” I giggled. “Everything about the wedding is happening in one week,” I said.
Will glanced over his shoulder at the approaching bus.
“Saturday morning brunch?” I suggested.
He shook his head, returning his attention to me. “The guys are golfing on Saturday.”
I tried to hide my disappointment, but I wasn’t sure why. He seemed equally disappointed.
“I guess I’ll see you at the rehearsal dinner,” I said.
Will frowned. It was cute to see a grown man pout. “Rehearsal dinner.” He grabbed my face and kissed me just as the bus pulled up.
It made my knees wobbly, and he grinned against my lips. I blushed while searching for my legs just as the bus opened its doors. “Bye, William Landry,” I said before biting my lower lip. “Enjoy your strippers.”
He rolled his eyes because the couple exiting the bus heard me and grinned.
There was no amount of advanced reasoning, no amount of genius, that could have prepared my heart for what was to come.
Chapter Seventeen
Will
“Morning, dear,” Liz says, pouring a cup of coffee when Everleigh opens the back door.
I keep my head ducked, filling my water bottle before my tai chi class. The sight of Everleigh in a tiny sports bra and even tinier shorts, skin glistening with sweat, is not what I need.
“Good morning,” Everleigh chirps on her way to the stairs.
“Coffee?” Liz asks her.
“No. I’m going to shower. That will wake me up. Then I’ll have a nappuccino after we look at properties.”
“Good idea,” Liz says.
The shred of self-preservation that still exists in my brain after spending the evening with Everleigh screams for me not to ask the obvious question.
“What’s a nappuccino?” I ask, losing that shred while I tighten my water bottle lid.
“Daniel Pink?” Liz eyes me.
I shake my head.
“Oh.” She takes a sip of her coffee before continuing. “He’s an author. Anyway, in his book he mentions drinking caffeine right before taking a short nap. The effect of the caffeine then kicks in at the end of the nap, and you get an extra boost from combining the nap with caffeine consumption. Everleigh takes one every day. She schedules out time at work. I think around one or two in the afternoon. It’s such a smart idea.” Liz doesn’t question it for a second.
But I do. Who has time to schedule midday naps? Two-year-olds, not doctors with a practice to run and patients to see.
“So smart,” I mumble just as my phone rings. “Hey, Dad. What’s up?”
“I think she’s gone.”
“Who’s gone?” I head upstairs to grab my wallet.
“Your mom. I think she left me for the baby’s real father.” His voice is weak.
“Dad, she’s—” Before I can say another word, Everleigh steps out of my bathroom, dripping water everywhere, towel around her naked body, hair lathered in shampoo.
Her eyes widen when they meet mine. I drop my gaze to her hand and my razor in it.
“Mom’s not pregnant. She had a hysterectomy,” I say to Dad.
“She didn’t have her breasts removed. They’re big as ever,” Dad says.
“My razor broke,” Everleigh whispers. “I’ll return yours when I’m done.”
When she tries to jump past me, I grab her wrist to stop her. “I didn’t say mastectomy, Dad. I said hysterectomy. She had her uterus removed. I’ll call you back in a couple of minutes.” I end the call. “What the hell?”
“I’ll just shave below my knees and return it as soon as I’m done. No armpits. No pubic hair. Not that I have that much, but I have a little landing strip.” She wrinkles her nose.
I glance at the wet carpet beneath her feet.
“You’re supposedly a doctor. How can you not know that sharing a razor is not recommended? It’s like having unprotected sex.”
“Will, the risk of blood-borne pathogen transmission is much lower than unprotected sex. And my shower is running.” She twists her wrist to wriggle out of my hold. Then she prances on her tippy-toes to her bathroom and kicks the door behind her, but it doesn’t completely shut. So when she drops her towel to the floor, I see her naked backside through the inch opening that might as well be a foot.
I look away and grab a towel from my bathroom to dry the carpet, but my curiosity gets the best of me, and I sneak another peek. The splattering of water on the glass shower door doesn’t totally obscure her breasts as she lifts her arm to shave her pit, which she said she wouldn’t do. As I step on the towel to soak up the water, my gaze lifts a fraction, and she’s staring at me.