Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 85399 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85399 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
And that’s the decision I had to make—us or me.
Is it wrong to pick me too?
More fire. More passion. More time spent together besides meeting at a sports event and grabbing fast food on our way home—if he doesn’t have to go back to the shop.
Is that so terrible?
My phone rings again, making me jump.
Harvey? Jack’s dad’s name flashes on the screen.
My stomach sinks as I pick it up.
“Hey,” I say, my brows furrowed. “What’s going on, Harvey?”
“Hey, sugarplum. How are you doing today?” His voice is crackly, betraying his attempts at hiding his penchant for cigars. “You doing okay over there?”
“I’m good. Getting my day started.”
“You’re just now getting started? It’s halfway through the morning.”
I laugh. “I don’t need your negativity, sir.”
He laughs too. “I haven’t heard from ya in a while, and I was startin’ to get worried. Afraid you’re getting too big-time for me. I saw you on the television.”
“You did?”
“Yeah, and I’m damn proud of ya, Lauren.”
I swallow a lump in my throat.
My father-in-law has no way of knowing just how badly I need to hear those words. Then again, maybe I didn’t, either, because I didn’t plan on blinking back tears already today.
“I got other things I want to talk to ya about, though,” he says.
“Sure. What’s that?”
Harvey coughs, the sound rough and raw.
“Are you okay?” I ask him.
“That’s why I’m callin’ ya. I wanted to know if you could do me a favor.”
I lean against the counter and sigh.
Harvey Reed doesn’t ask me for much. He doesn’t ask anyone for much. Truth be told, he doesn’t accept much of anything, whether he asks for it or not. So if he’s calling for a favor, it must be important.
“Sure,” I say. “What’s up?”
“Well, I messed up pretty good, and I’m in a bind.”
“What did you do this time?” I ask, smiling. “You didn’t get into a fight over college football with old man Travers at the diner again, did you? I’m not calling down there and convincing them to let you back a second time. I warned you.”
He chuckles. “No. No. Nothing like that.”
“And you didn’t accidentally mow just a hair over the property line just to annoy your neighbor, right?”
“Nah, I just blew the cuttings into his yard, the old prick.”
“You’re no spring chicken, Harv,” I laugh.
“You aren’t, either, sugarplum.”
I gasp. “That’s rude.”
“That’s the damn truth, and you know it.”
Still laughing, I take my mug back to the coffeepot and refill it. “So, what do you need? Want me to come over tonight and watch Jeopardy! With you? I’ll bring a meat-and-cheese tray,” I say, taunting him with his favorite snack.
“It’s called a ‘char-cute-rie’ board these days. Get it together.”
My laughter trails off. “Sorry. I’m not as hip as you.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Anyway, I need you to please go by my house and grab my insulin and bring it to me.”
I pour half the bottle of creamer into the mug. Fuck it. “Where are you? The diner?”
“No . . .” The pause lingers, going on too long for it not to intentionally be a cliff-hanger. Then: “I’m at Story Brook.”
I stare straight ahead. Is he kidding me?
“I decided to come up here this morning and get some fresh air. Hell, we own these cabins and haven’t been up here since Christmas. Kinda stupid to let them go unused, if you ask me,” he says. “Maybe do a little fishin’. Might see if Mrs. Shaw is around and do a little face-sucking.”
My head shakes back and forth as I grin. “You better hope she’s on the pill.”
His laughter is fast and loud—so loud that I have to pull the phone away from my face. It’s infectious. I find myself laughing too.
“She’s about as old as I am,” he says, as if I don’t already know. “I reckon she lost the ability to have kids about thirty years ago.”
“You never know.”
“I do have high testosterone. I bet I still have some swimmers.”
“Harvey, stop it,” I say, my tone light with humor.
“Fine. But will ya bring it to me or not? I don’t want to have to ask that husband of yours, because he’ll give me shit about being here in the first place. He forgets that I managed to raise him and not get him killed. So I don’t know why in the hell he thinks I can’t be trusted alone at Story Brook, but that’s what’s in his head.”
“He’s probably worried you’ll knock up Mrs. Shaw too.”
Harvey chuckles.
“I suppose I’ll bring it,” I say, sipping my drink. “I mean, it’s three hours there and three hours back. It’s not like I have anything to do today.”
“Didn’t figure you did. And if you did, it doesn’t hold a candle to seeing this old face.”
“That’s true.”
He sighs. “Can you not tell Jack about this? Or those kids of yours. I hate to tell ya, but they’re little snitches. I lit a cigar a few weeks ago, and they told their dad within ten minutes of pulling out of the driveway.”