Total pages in book: 37
Estimated words: 35256 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 176(@200wpm)___ 141(@250wpm)___ 118(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 35256 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 176(@200wpm)___ 141(@250wpm)___ 118(@300wpm)
“It was the same kind of day.”
“Did you eliminate the competition?” she asked.
“Not today. I didn’t need to. Today I got to be the boss.”
“Ooh, that sounds awesome.” She held onto his arm a little tighter and he couldn’t help but glance over and watch her.
She looked so happy, so free. Antwone had never known what that was like. Even when he and Draven had been able to escape their father, they had no choice but to constantly look over their shoulders, waiting for someone to try and end them. It was why they took over.
None of it had been easy for either of them, but they had finally risen to the top. Antwone had thought it was what he wanted, but day by day, he was starting to see it wasn’t quite as fun as he hoped it would be. And he didn’t have much choice in his life. Now that they were arguing about him having a wife, it was far less enjoyable than ever. He didn’t want the bullshit.
They arrived at her apartment and like every other evening, she took his jacket from him, hanging it up beside hers in the hallway. Her apartment did smell good.
“Why didn’t you go for the pancakes?” he asked.
“As much as I love pancakes, and I do, I told you I was going to make a business and all that. I like variety, and besides, when the boss calls to inform you there’s no work, you don’t waste that time. I had ground beef and everything I needed to make the meatballs, and that, my dear friend, is exactly what I did.”
He followed her into the kitchen, and she leaned over the slow cooker after lifting the lid.
“Come and smell.”
Antwone had learned it was easier to follow her commands than to say no. Besides, his mouth watered, and as he stepped over to the slow cooker, he was pretty sure he inhaled heaven. They smelled so good.
She put the lid back on.
“I cook the spaghetti separately.” She hummed to herself, and he did what he’d done the past few nights—sat down at the table while she worked.
She filled a pot with water, and he watched as she weighed out the pasta.
The water still hadn’t come to a boil, so she turned toward him. “What can I get you, tea, water, coffee, wine?”
“Water will be just fine.”
She filled them both two glasses. Candice very rarely drank wine and when she did, it was small bottles, where she didn’t have to worry about the wine spoiling.
“What are you thinking?” Candice asked, taking him by surprise.
Sometimes her questions did that to him. He didn’t know if she intentionally did it, or if this was natural to her.
“Why are you asking?”
She smiled. “You do that all the time. Answer a question with a question. If you must know, it’s what my parents always did.” She shrugged. “My dad would always say that the reason they had a good relationship was because he got to know the way her mind worked.” She pointed a finger to her head. “Mom said the same.” She sighed.
“You miss them?”
“Always.”
She walked over to the counter, pulled out a book that looked like it had seen better days, and moved toward him.
“This is them.” She opened the book and there was a picture of a young man and woman, holding hands, looking happy.
“Mom made this cookbook, and she did so while creating memories. This picture was their first dance. I think they said they’d been dating for about two years when she agreed to go to her first dance with him.”
“Two years?” he asked.
She nodded. “My parents took it slow, but I also have to tell you that in this picture, they were sixteen.”
“No shit,” he said.
Candice giggled. “Yeah, which means my dad was dating her at least when he was fourteen. He always said the moment he first saw her, he fell in love and knew he was going to marry her.”
She moved the pages and he saw recipes, combined with pictures.
“There are none of you,” he said.
“Ah, you see, I came later in life.”
She got to her feet and moved toward a small assortment of books. Candice returned and opened the page. The woman and man were much older, like she said, but in the couples’ arms was a baby.
“See,” she said.
Flicking through the pages, he saw it was a book of memories and of plans, filled with recipes.
“Candice’s winning peanut cookies?” he asked.
“Again, a recipe my mom created for me. It was a reward for doing so well on some of my tests.”
“I thought you didn’t test well?”
“I didn’t, so passing was a big deal.”
“Ah, I see.”
He could see that she loved her parents very much.
****
Candice often pulled out the cookbooks, so she could venture down memory lane. She loved her parents and missed them every day. Like now, she would have loved to be able to talk to her mom, to ask her so many questions and get her advice on Antwone.