Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 127201 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127201 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
“I don’t want to hear it,” Zeph says, cutting me off. “Just tell me where it’s safe.”
“Uhhh . . .” I look around the massive living room, my gaze even cutting into both the dining room and kitchen, scanning over every surface of the house, and honestly, I’m coming up blank. We’ve christened the whole house, so I think it might be time to get a new place just so we can start the christening process all over.
Realizing there’s nowhere safe to sit, Zephyr grabs the stool from under the kitchen island and Caesar and I share a glance, our eyes widening with horror. I press my lips into a hard line, trying not to make it obvious, but Zeph isn’t as clueless as he looks. “What?” he demands. “What could you have possibly done to the stool?”
Caesar’s gaze swings back to me, his brow arched with fondness. “You remember?”
“Oh yeah. The coffee pot?”
“And the pool noodle,” Caesar laughs as Zeph looks horrified, probably wondering what kind of kinky shit we’re into that involves a coffee pot and a pool noodle, but this isn’t exactly a story that needs to be shared with Caesar’s son, of all people. As a matter of fact, it won’t be shared with anyone. Though I’ll be sure to taunt Zephyr with it every chance I get.
“The . . . wait. Coffee pot?” Zephyr asks as Chloe looks at me as though I’ve lost my mind. “What the fuck is wrong with you two? I can’t even work out what the fuck you would do with a pool noodle. Like, where does that . . . no. You know what, don’t even tell me. I don’t want to know.”
Chloe pipes up. “Speak for yourself,” she says, gaping at me. “Where the hell did you put a coffee pot and a pool noodle?”
I glance at Caesar, and the two of us burst out laughing before simultaneously shaking our heads. “Nah, we couldn’t,” I tell him. “They can’t handle it.”
“No, you’re right, hellcat. He’s not old enough to know about the pool noodle.”
“What?” Zephyr demands. “I’m older than Tilly.”
“By two months,” I throw back at him, scoffing before giving him a smug grin simply because I know what his daddy did to me with a coffee pot and a pool noodle, and he will never know.
Gosh, life is sweet like that.
Caesar shakes his head and cuts across to the kitchen, finding some plates to start setting the table. “I don’t mean your age, Zeph. I mean your emotional maturity.”
Zephyr shakes his head and crosses to the kitchen as well, grabs a clean dish towel out of the drawer, and makes his way back over to Chloe to spread it out. Satisfied that he’s not about to get any remnants of shared DNA on his ass, he drops down next to his girlfriend before letting out a heavy sigh. “Alright, fine,” he says. “Tell me why we’re here. What’s going on?”
Caesar glances up, and seeing that his son is finally being serious—no thanks to me—he puts the plates down on the table before crossing back into the living room, moving right in next to me where he’d been only a minute ago. And honestly, I’ve never been more curious. Whatever tonight’s dinner is about, it’s a mystery to me.
Caesar’s arm falls around me, his hand resting on the small of my back. “Zeph, I’m going to ask Tilly to marry me, and I need to know that you’re going to be okay with it.”
My jaw drops.
Chloe’s jaw drops.
And Zeph, he just says. “Huh? I thought you already got married in Tahiti last year.”
“Wait. What?” I cut in, not sure whether to look at Caesar and ask what the fuck he’s been smoking or Zephyr for thinking we’d somehow gotten married in secret and didn’t think he should say anything about it.
I go for Caesar, lifting my gaze to meet his. “You want to marry me?”
“Tell me you’re not only just figuring that out now.”
“I’m only twenty-four.”
“I know. We’ve got our whole lives ahead of us. I’m not asking you right now. I’ll wait until you’re ready, but this is where this is heading. I’m not about to let you slip through my fingers, Tilly. You’re mine, and I want my ring on your finger.”
My eyes widen in horror, realization hitting me like a freight train. “Oh, my God. You’ve already got the ring, don’t you?”
He scoffs as though offended by the question. “Of course I do. What kind of bullshit question is that? I’ve got the wedding band as well.”
I shake my head, not in the least bit surprised.
“So, what’s it going to be?”
“Huh?”
“To marrying me.”
“I thought you weren’t asking me now.”
“I’m not.”
“But you are.”
“Okay, yeah. I suppose I am.”
I gape at him. “Twenty-four, remember?”
“Whole lives ahead of us, remember?”