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)
Main headquarters?
“Dad, you won’t die without a cookie.”
“That’s easy for you to say. You’re not stuck in a jail like I am. You can buy a whole box of cookies.”
“Well, maybe I can arrange a cookie delivery. I don’t know yet. I’ll have to see what I can find.”
“Chocolate chip. No raisins. No oatmeal. No cranberries. No coconut. No nuts.”
“Yeah. Yeah. I got it. No promises.”
“Do you know my room number?”
“I do—”
“It’s thirteen. Unlucky number thirteen.”
“Thirteen. Got it. I’ll check back with you later.”
“Okay. I’ll just be here doing nothing. Waiting for a cookie.”
I close my eyes for a second and nod. Oh the guilt. I don’t want him to die, but I wouldn’t mind if he misplaced his phone. “Understood. I love you.”
He replies with a “Hmm” as if he’s not sure if I do.
Please be gone.
I turn to discover my prayer has gone unanswered.
Everleigh’s fingers fly across her computer’s keyboard. It’s as if I’m not here. And maybe I can lower to my hands and knees and crawl out of her office before she notices I’m gone.
“The best way to know if you’ve successfully raised good humans is to see how they take care of you when you become the child again.” She taps a key with her index finger three times, then rolls back in her chair and rests her hands on the arms.
I don’t know what to do with that pose because her hands are neither behind her nor folded in front.
“Your parents raised a good human,” she says.
“That’s interesting coming from the girl who thinks I crushed her heart eleven years ago.”
She returns a soft smile. “I’m not your mother. Perhaps how you treat me isn’t as important as how you treat her.”
“Did your parents raise you well?” I ask, casually taking a few steps closer to the door as if I can discreetly exit the stage when there’s a break in conversation—the end of an act.
“I don’t know.” A flash of something crosses her face. What? I’m not sure.
She quickly smiles through it. “It’s easy to think that you’ll rise to the occasion, but caring for older people is challenging. You can’t change a diaper, feed them, stick a pacifier in their mouth, and put them down for a nap while you get things done. The milestones aren’t exciting like a toddler walking or saying their first words. It’s reversed. It’s frustrating and sad. The guilt is unrelenting. There can be deep feelings of resentment and loneliness. Caregiver burnout. And other things you can’t anticipate. You’re not bringing a life into the world. You’re easing the transition into a life ending,” Everleigh says, lifting her gaze for a mere second before looking at her watch.
Maybe talking about the kiss would be easier.
“Thank you,” I murmur.
A slow smile tugs at her lips. “For the depressing dose of reality or the kiss?”
I shrug. “They feel like one and the same.”
Everleigh rolls her eyes with a tiny headshake.
“I should not have kissed you,” I say in all seriousness.
“You didn’t. I kissed you.” She folds her hands in her lap.
“I participated.”
She studies me for a few seconds before returning a slow nod.
“I can’t forget the past,” I say. “But more than that, I’m still twelve years older than you. And I am a good son, so I might have to move to Somers to help take care of my dad. And let’s be honest, you’re too smart for me.”
Again, she offers a single, slow nod. So I turn and open her door.
“Will, I’m scared too. And I know the night that stands out in your head is our last night together, but I will never forget the rehearsal dinner.”
My lips part, and I take a quick breath as I prepare to turn back toward her and make a case for why I’m not scared despite what she thinks. But I don’t want to argue with her. It won’t change how I feel, and I doubt it will change her feelings either.
“I shouldn’t have cockblocked you. It won’t happen again.” I open the door without looking back. It’s time to get laid.
Chapter Twenty
Eleven years earlier . . .
“Fancy seeing you here,” Everleigh said from behind me as the wedding party gathered outside of the Stanford Faculty Club for the rehearsal in the courtyard.
It was an intimate setting nestled in the majestic trees and manicured greenery, accented with string lights for ambience. I turned, unable to hide my grin. She had twisted her hair into a bun, with a few strands around her face. All the bridesmaids wore floral dresses in bright colors and patterns. Perfectly mismatched. Everleigh’s was light purple with dark-purple polka dots and thin straps that crisscrossed in front and tied around her neck.
“Hmm, have we met?” I scratched my chin.
“It’s every girl’s dream to be so unforgettable.” She clasped her hands behind her back and swayed side to side, her dress rocking like a church bell.