Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 56295 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 281(@200wpm)___ 225(@250wpm)___ 188(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56295 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 281(@200wpm)___ 225(@250wpm)___ 188(@300wpm)
“One glass of champagne with a spritz of orange juice coming right up.” Maybe it’s a good thing Ophelia isn’t at home often. I have a feeling my liver would not like me.
“Thanks. I’m going to go say good morning to Baboosh and Conrad.” Before the girls were born, it was always Mr. and Mrs. Drakos, then it turned into the Greek name for grandmother and grandfather. Conrad and Sherry have always been their first names I’ve called them once David and I were married; otherwise, it was the same, using the James name.
“Better hurry up. Dad is already talking about how he’s chopped liver these days. First the girls and now you. Tsk, tsk, bestie.” I blow her off, grab the champagne flute, and make my rounds with the rest of my family. We may be a hodgepodge of sorts, but it’s the best I could ever ask for.
28
NIX
“That movie was so good. Did you see how awesome the graphics were? I mean, wow.” Emmy is talking a mile a minute as we make our way inside the house. It’s been a few days since Rosaleigh’s birthday, where she gave me a gift instead of the other way around. One that wasn’t monetary but came from the heart—a place in their home for me to store my clothes, shoes, and the likes. Everything is still at my place tool wise, as are pictures I have from over the years, but I wasn’t staying there much anyways. Rory and Emmy had no problem with me becoming a permanent fixture in their house. Little did they know it didn’t matter the four walls that surrounded us. These three women are my home.
“See, I told you I’d pick out a good one.” I’ve got my arm slung over Rory’s shoulder. Emmy is walking backwards, and Rosaleigh is walking in front of us, looking over her shoulder, smiling happily. This week, her days off are separate, a freaking Tuesday and a Thursday. What the shit is that? I’m really going to have to work on getting Leigh to either find a new job, one that’s Monday through Friday with an occasional Saturday, or persuade her to work at the shop for me. We wouldn’t have to do a family movie night in the middle of the week, hurry the girls home, grab a bite to eat, and then head to the theatre.
“You got lucky,” Rory responds. She was reluctant about seeing the science fiction film, much preferring a romantic comedy or replay of a movie that was older than even me.
“Are you agreeing that it was good?” I pull away and place my hand over my heart. Her eyes are dancing with laughter. Leigh is on the porch, ass to the railing, waiting until we all get closer to the door.
“I’m not saying yes, but I’m not saying no.” Emmy bounds up ahead of us until she’s standing beside Leigh, hip to hip. That’s how tall she’s gotten in the past six months. Rosaleigh isn’t that tall to begin with. Rory is at eye level with her, and Emmy has a few more inches until she’ll be the same.
“Can’t admit when you’re wrong and I’m right, I see.” We take the last few steps, meeting them. The sun has long since set. Time change is a bitch when it’s during the winter. Six o’clock at night, and it feels like it’s nearly midnight. Shit doesn’t get done as quickly; there’s never enough time in the day. I’ll be glad as fuck once spring hits.
“You do realize I am my mother’s daughter, right?” I nod my head to Leigh. She takes Emmy with her, unlocking the door. No need in letting the heat out of the house while we’re moseying along.
“There’s no denying that. You and Emmy both. I see more and more of her in the two of you than ever these days. Minus the mascara.” She pokes me in the side at the mention of her current obsession. When the girls came back from their visit with my parents, Rory had four new tubes of the shit, some weird eyelash separator thing, lip gloss, more clothes than I thought possible for what she had to spend, and while my parents don’t mind spending money on them, I know for a fact they wouldn’t overdo it. Emmy got two pairs of shoes and more clothes than Rory. Apparently, the thrift store was paydirt. Everything clothes was under a hundred dollars. The girls used their money and gift cards for the expensive shit, and the grandparents paid for the rest.
“Alright, get ready to wind down. Showers and homework. I don’t mind which order, but get it done, please,” Leigh tells the girls once we’re in the house and the front door is shut.
“I’ll shower first. All I have to do is reading.” Emmy bounces down the hallway, leaving a path of clothes in her wake—shoes, beanie, scarf, and jacket. I mentally count down the seconds until I know Rosaleigh is going to remind her to pick up after herself.