Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 66074 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 330(@200wpm)___ 264(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66074 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 330(@200wpm)___ 264(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
I can’t help but chuckle at my best friend. “Ya know, I’ve always admired your ability to come up with metaphors and similes customized for each of your clients.”
He smirks, but then carries on when he sees he’s getting through to me. “In a perfect world for a perfect Dom, you’d be able to perfectly balance all the side characters inside you. But you aren’t The Office. You’re just a man, brother. And if someone can’t forgive that you make human mistakes sometimes, then it’s them who’s the problem, because they have highly unrealistic expectations.” He looks at me pointedly.
“‘It’s me. Hi. I’m the problem,’” I deadpan.
He rolls his eyes. “You are not a Swiftie.”
“Not even close. But the radio plays her stuff every-other fucking song, so you learn the lyrics whether you want to or not. At least a couple of them are catchy.” I shrug.
“So learn these lyrics whether you want to or not—You. Are. Human,” he jabs.
I give him a judgy face. “Um, those aren’t the words. It’s ‘When we’re human again….’”
He stares at me blankly after I sing the line, operatically and everything.
After a moment of just staring at each other in a silent game of Chicken, he finally breaks. “Okay, you’ve stumped me. What the hell are you talking about?”
“Beauty and the Beast, bro. Come on!”
His brow furrows. “Astrid watches that with Luna all the time. There’s no song in there that sounds like that.”
“Duuude. Which release do you have? The 1991 OG version?” I ask.
He pulls out his phone and checks something before he replies, “According to her Favorites list on Roku, it is indeed the one from ’91.”
“Nah, man. Add the one from 2002 at the earliest. It was the first special edition to include the song that was cut out of the original.”
He slowly shakes his head at me. “I’ll get right on that.”
“Don’t shake your head at me. I’ve already spilled my guts about how obsessed I am with my daughter—”
“Don’t say that. It sounds creepy,” he interrupts.
“Spilled my guts about how wrapped around my daughter’s little finger I am,” I correct immediately, because I gave myself the ick as soon as the word ‘obsessed’ came out of my mouth while being directed at my little girl, when I feel that’s the most accurate word to describe what I feel toward my hot-ass wife.
He rolls his eyes. “You were quoting Beauty and the Beast for years before you even had Luna.”
I sink back into the overstuffed leather chair, and just as maturely as sticking my tongue out at Brian earlier, I tell him huffily, “Shut up.”
He chuckles, then uncrosses his legs and leans forward, resting his elbows on his wide-spread knees and clasping his hands together between them. “Well… I think your wife is probably getting worried by now that you’re spending so much time back here with me instead of at your big-boy birthday party,” he coos at me.
“Touché,” I insert.
“So how about we come up with a temporary solution for your identity crisis to get you through the night, and then we can really work on it when we have more time?”
I sigh and look down. “That feels so wrong to do, when it’s something so important. Like we’re just sticking a cartoon-covered Band-Aid on a mortal wound.”
Doc reaches out and swats the side of my knee, and his voice is gentle when he speaks next. “Seth, I’m telling you, just put it out of your mind as much as you can and enjoy the rest of your night. Go along with the surprise without trying to pull hints out of your girl and make her ruin it. Do whatever Twyla has spent the week busting her ass to put together for you. That will mean more to her than anything else—getting to give you a gift she put her heart and soul into. Even if it’s just for tonight, don’t try to do anything more or less than you would’ve before you had your revelation. Just live in the moment of her present. Then you can work on fixing everything else tomorrow.”
When I stare at him blankly, he adds, “Doctor’s orders,” and I roll my eyes.
“Easier said than done,” I reply.
“I’m sure. But I have a feeling that whatever happens tonight might just give you all the answers you need.”
There’s a twinkle in his eye that tells me not to brush off what he’s saying. He’s not just giving me a careless “it’ll be okay.” He knows something about Twyla’s gift, something important, and it fills me with motivation to swat away the dark cloud that settled over me and get back to the dining room to wrap up dinner and move on to whatever’s next in my wife’s plan.
CHAPTER 11
Twyla
My heart is racing as we park in the underground garage, then make our way up the cement steps to ground level. Seth takes my hand as we walk along the sidewalk, pulling it up to his lips to kiss my knuckles as we turn the corner of the building, continuing the few yards until we reach the front entrance of Club Alias. We’re here a full hour before the club opens for the night, so we don’t worry about masks or hoods to conceal our identities. Instead, Seth uses his key to unlock the door, and when we’re inside, he spins the lock once again.