Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 96720 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96720 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
“We could have gone out for dinner,” I said, almost apologetic as I struggled to put some pasta on my plate one-handed. “You’re only here for a few days. I feel like this is a missed opportunity when there are so many restaurants in the city.”
“We’ll be back, I’m sure.” Holly twirled her fork through some noodles.
“Can’t see everything in one trip,” Bill added as he took a bite.
“I’ve lived here for twenty years, and I haven’t seen everything,” I said with a laugh, then immediately regretted it. Twenty years ago, Charlotte would have been starting elementary school. That was a deeply uncomfortable thought.
Judging from Holly’s grimace, the age difference wasn’t her favorite topic, either. I knew that brief flicker of discomfort wasn’t from my cooking, because she hadn’t tasted anything yet.
It wasn’t something Bill seemed eager to discuss, either. “Matt, this is delicious. I don’t believe you cooked it yourself. You secretly ordered take-out, didn’t you?”
“No, but that would have been a lot easier. I wish I would have thought of that.” I took a bite, and damned if it wasn’t truly amazing.
Charlotte was of the same opinion. “Okay, I’m not going to coddle you in the kitchen anymore, buddy. You can do the bulk of the work while I observe, from now on.”
“If I had you at home, I would fire my chef,” Holly agreed, quickly adding, “Not that we have one.”
“So, what are your plans while you’re here? If interrogating me about my intentions toward your daughter isn’t on the table,” I half-joked. “You mentioned museums.”
“Dad wants to hit the Met tomorrow,” Charlotte said. “I was hoping my boss would give me the day off to go with them.”
“Granted. Your boss might take the day off and come along, too.” I winked at her in response to her head-jerk of surprise. “I’ve never been, except for events.”
“Events?” Holly’s eyebrows rose. “As in…”
“Not that event,” I clarified.
“I don’t think getting dressed up in a ridiculous costume is Matt’s thing,” Charlotte explained for me.
“Exactly. I’m not big on mingling with celebrities. That’s a culture I don’t understand or fit in with. I’m more of a nerd.”
“Well, you’re one of Scott’s friends, so we naturally assumed you might be,” Bill said with dry fondness.
“He’s supposed to be here tomorrow night,” Charlotte informed them. “I thought we could all go out for dinner before the show, so Scott can’t make fun of Matt and destroy his confidence in his kitchen skills.”
“Excuse me,” I said, taking another forkful. “But after this, nothing is going to destroy my confidence in my kitchen skills.”
I’d absolutely nailed this dinner.
CHAPTER TWELVE
(Charlotte)
I was going to die on a toilet.
“Charlotte?”
“Don’t come in!” I shouted, cursing whoever had designed this fucking bathroom. With the toilet separated from the shower in its own little room, the only water to turn on for noise cover was the handwashing sink, and the damn thing had a gently trickling stream.
Not even Niagara Falls couldn’t provide the privacy I needed.
When I’d woken at two in the morning to run to the bathroom and spew my guts out, my first thought had been, oh fuck me, I’m pregnant. And while I had clung, desperate and sweating, to the toilet bowl, I’d thought that could be the worst possible scenario. But now, I was sitting on the toilet with a wastebasket between my knees, wishing what I had was something as minor as a life-altering uterine event.
“I’ll use the other one!” he called back, with an unmistakable urgency that I wished we didn’t share.
All I could think was, what the hell did my parents bring home on the plane?
At some point, I pulled myself together enough to leave the toilet and go to the shower. It seemed like a much better place. I turned the taps on hot and laid directly on the floor. The cold tile on my hot face and the hot water on my chilled and shaking body made me feel a little more coherent.
Then, I thought, oh god. The mussels.
“Charlotte?” Matt’s ragged voice called through the echoing bathroom.
“Why didn’t you make beef?” I groaned.
“I don’t know. I wish I did.” There was a brief pause, then a retching noise, and the door to the toilet slammed closed.
I pushed myself up on my limp arms. “Are Mom and Dad okay?”
It took him a long time to answer. “I don’t know. Honestly? I don’t think I could get down there to check. I’m pretty weak.”
It took all of the strength in my body to get to my knees and turn off the shower. Matt called, frantically, “No, go ahead and leave it on!”
Understood. I pulled myself to my feet and staggered out, almost slipping in the water that dripped from the t-shirt I hadn’t even bothered to take off. I grabbed a towel and wrapped it around my body, dropped another on the floor and warned him, “Don’t fall when you come out.”