Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 98846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 494(@200wpm)___ 395(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 494(@200wpm)___ 395(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
“You were so drunk you couldn’t even stand.” Gerald starts laughing and slapping his knee. “And of course he thought he could go for a run and burn off the alcohol, because King is nothing but practical, even when he’s so shit faced he can’t see straight.”
“It seemed logical at the time,” Kingston grumbles, cheeks flushing.
“I’m assuming that didn’t go well,” I press, imagining a drunk, teenage Kingston trying to sober up by going for a run.
“He kept stumbling around; ended up in a raspberry bush and scratched himself all to hell. Broke out in hives too.”
“Because whatever you were feeding me had strawberries in it.” Kingston rolls his eyes.
“We didn’t know.”
“All you had to do was read the ingredients.”
“Oh my God, that must have been epic!” I snicker.
Kingston shoots me a look. “I was underage, and they got me blind drunk. Don’t look so gleeful over this.”
I pat his thigh. “I’m just picturing how you’d react, especially as a teenager.”
“He tried to make himself puke, but King hates throwing up, so he started begging me to help him.” Gerald is practically rolling on the floor laughing at this point, tears streaming down his cheeks.
“I think Queenie’s heard enough of that story. Luckily I didn’t die of alcohol poisoning.”
“You had four drinks, and you weighed almost two hundred pounds even back then. You weren’t going to die of alcohol poisoning.”
“I didn’t know that, though. And those four drinks consisted of mostly rum.”
“King made himself puke, and he passed out in one of the lawn chairs. Ended up being bitten by, like, a thousand mosquitos. He looked like he’d come down with the chicken pox.” Gerald turns to Kingston, wiping tears from his eyes. “Remember how you thought you’d fallen in a patch of poison ivy when you woke up?” He slaps his thighs, snorting through his laughter. “He was covered in hives and bug bites and he couldn’t stop scratching himself.”
“No wonder he never wanted to go camping with you again.” Hanna shakes her head, but she’s smiling.
“Maybe we should talk about the time I had to use the find my phone app because you were so messed up you had no idea where you were. Or the time I found you passed out on the front lawn at five in the morning wearing only a pair of women’s underwear,” Kingston fires back at Gerald.
“Those were some of the best nights of my life, even though I don’t remember them at all,” his brother says wistfully.
“Which is why you’re still single.”
“Or maybe it’s because I’m asexual. Thanks for making me out myself in front of your girlfriend and her dad. I’ll bill you for the therapy sessions.” Gerald winks at me. “I’m not asexual. I’m commitment phobic; see the rest of my messed-up family for details.” He motions to his family, lounging around Kingston’s living room, no one apparently scandalized by the stories they’ve shared about each other.
“I’m not messed up,” Kingston says.
“Dude, you drink more milk than infants do, and your entire wardrobe consists of khakis and polos. That’s not normal.”
“Whatever. Someone has to walk the straight and narrow. And I’m the most normal out of the rest of you.” He kisses me on the temple and whispers, “Please don’t break up with me because my family is insane.”
Eventually Kingston has to fire up the barbecue for dinner.
I can practically feel the anxiety seeping out of him every time he walks into the kitchen where his mom, Hanna, Gerald, my dad, and I are helping prep for dinner. Hanna gave my dad the job of cutting buns open for burgers and sausages, and Gerald’s role seems to be playing chicken with cutting board knives, since he’s constantly reaching for cut pickles and cheese.
Based on the stories I’m told, Kingston used to drink a gallon of milk every two days. I’m not sure much has changed.
Hanna decides that dishes are too much work, so she goes in search of paper plates and disposable cutlery, and my dad offers to help. Gerald disappears outside with a beer, leaving me alone with Kingston’s mom.
She wipes her hands on a dishcloth and turns nervously toward me. “I owe you an apology.”
“I know how it must have looked from an outsider’s perspective, and I can fully understand why you would have concerns about Kingston dating someone like me.”
“I appreciate that you’re letting me off the hook here, Queenie, but I’m the one in the wrong, and I should know better than to believe the media.” She tosses the dishcloth on the counter, and I instinctively spread it out over the edge of the sink like Kingston prefers.
“Sissy spins a compelling tale.”
“You’re not wrong about that. It’s still not an excuse for bringing Jessica here and creating problems where there didn’t need to be any. Or for making you feel judged. Lord knows I’ve let other people’s perceived judgment cloud my own vision more than enough times over the years. Ryan has always been the perfect child, and when he found out about Hanna being his mother . . . well, he was rightfully upset. More upset than I’d ever seen him before. I didn’t want my role in his life to change, so I tried to control the situation, because that’s what I’ve always done. But I see now how very wrong I was.” She smiles softly. “I’ve never seen him smile more than he does when you’re at his side. Thank you for being brave enough to come here today to meet all of us despite how uncomfortable it must have been.”