Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 93453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
“We brought over some food,” Willow explains, looking at her son and then looking at me. Charlie comes to stand next to me and slides his hand into mine. Her eyes go big. “Oh my.” She looks up at Quinn, who tries not to make eye contact. “You knew?”
“No,” he lies. “I might have suspected this, but this is a shock to me also.” He gasps. “You two are together?” He rolls his eyes. “Maybe if we laid off the special blend, we would have seen what was in front of your face.” I turn my head to laugh against Charlie’s shoulder as she glares at him.
“We’re leaving.” She shakes her head. “And you”—she points at Charlie—“we are going to have words later.” She then looks at me, and her smile comes back. “It’s good to see you, Autumn, I’m happy you’re here.” She then slides her eyes back to Charlie. “You, not so much.” She walks to the truck, getting into the driver’s side, and we all hear the sound of her locking the doors.
“Willow,” Quinn says, walking to the pickup and trying not to laugh. He pulls to open the door and the handle drops back while she starts the truck. He knocks on the window. “This isn’t funny,” he says, and Willow just puts the music louder in the truck as she adjusts her seat.
“She’s going to leave him here?” I say, shocked as she backs out slowly.
“Nah,” Charlie says, “if she wanted to leave him here, she wouldn’t have backed out so slow.” He lets go of my hand, walking to the truck, and knocks on the window. “Mom, can you stay for lunch?”
She stops the truck at the same time Quinn walks over to stand next to me. “I hope you know that he’s exactly like his mother.” I put my hand in front of my mouth as Charlie talks his mother into staying for lunch.
“I’ll get the bags,” Quinn offers, walking to the back of the truck and stopping when Willow comes to stand beside him. “You almost ran over my foot,” he accuses, and she ignores him but doesn’t walk away from him. “Our son is home. Give me a kiss and let’s have lunch.” She looks up at him, the look of love written all over her face.
I’m so engrossed in them I don’t feel Charlie put his arm around me, looking up at him. “See, it’s not weird.” He bends his head and kisses my lips softly before whispering in my ear, “Don’t think I’ll forget about make-up sex.” I laugh at him as he turns, and we head into his house.
“Are you done with this?” I get up from my chair and walk over to Charlie’s side of the table to grab his plate. His hand comes out as he rubs the back of my leg. I look down at him as he looks up at me. The smile on his face makes his eyes light.
“Yeah, baby,” he replies softly, and I know I shouldn’t care that he’s calling me baby in front of his parents, but I do a bit. But not that much because I lean down and kiss his lips, because I want to. Because it feels right. But more importantly, because I can.
I grab his plate and see Willow watching us, her hand going to her own plate as she gets up and grabs Quinn’s plate. The two of them made up by the time they walked in. “You don’t have to clean up,” I say. “Charlie can help.”
“He has to get the bags,” Willow says, and I look over to see the bags at the door, but I just walk back into the kitchen with the plates in my hands. “I’ll go get the rest,” she tells me but doesn’t move. “So you and Charlie,” she starts, and I put the plate down, trying not to be nervous but failing.
“I know it’s a shock,” I start, my voice quivering, “and trust me, we weren’t expecting it to happen.” The tightness in my chest gets even tighter. “It’s not just for fun. I know I’m rambling, but I can’t help it. I ramble when I’m nervous.” I lift my hands and drop them into the sink.
“There is no reason for you to be nervous.” She smiles at me as she blinks away tears. “We owe you more than words can say right now.”
“What?” I question her, confused as she grabs one of my hands.
“I just had lunch with my boy, and he sat there, and he smiled—not a fake smile but a real fucking smile that went all the way to his eyes.” I try not to laugh at her saying the F-word, especially since she whispered it. “I sat there, and he laughed like I haven’t heard before. Like I’ve been praying for for the last eight years. He sat there, and I could tell he was happy. He wasn’t faking it. He wasn’t saying it to say it. He was actually happy, and he’s thriving, and you are part of that reason.” I start to say something, but she holds up her hand. “You brought me back my boy. I didn’t think I would ever see him again.” She wipes the tears away. “You brought my boy home.” She smiles at me. “Now, we’ve been in your hair long enough.” She turns. “So I’m going to let my husband,” she shouts toward the men, “take me home and make up for the fact that he lied to me.”