Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 67095 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 335(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67095 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 335(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
“Remind me why that’s a bad thing?” Libby says, smiling at Lisa when she drops off our food at the table.
“It’s not a bad thing. His crazy possessiveness gives me tingles, but it’s annoying when he’s overbearing. It’s hard to explain—I love it but hate it.”
“I get it,” Fawn says, taking a sip from her wineglass. “Levi is a little cray-cray, too, but I try not to let him get away with it. I don’t want him to think it’s okay to boss me around or control me.”
“Exactly. It’s like a game of tug-of-war. He pushes, I pull, then he pushes again,” I say, sliding my glass of wine across the table.
“I think I’ll stick to loving myself. All this relationship business sounds way too complicated,” Libby mutters.
Fawn laughs.
“It is complicated,” I agree, wondering if it might become even more complicated.
Chapter 9
NO FREE MILK
WESLEY
“Why on earth would a man want to buy the cow when he can just get the milk for free?” Miss Ina asks Mackenzie.
I see a smile twitch in the corner of my girlfriend’s mouth. Libby, who has been attempting to get a rise out of the old lady since we sat down to Christmas dinner, tips her head to the side and puts on a look that’s way too innocent.
“How will they know if the milk’s not spoiled if they don’t test it out?” Libby asks.
Miss Ina huffs.
Swallowing down a chuckle of my own, I look at my mom. She’s sitting across from us, and I can see her shoulders shaking as she laughs silently.
When we arrived at the house and she was introduced to everyone, all my anxiety melted away. I should have known better than to be worried. There is no way Katie Reed would make anyone in her house feel uncomfortable. She made my mom and stepdad feel at home, and so did everyone else.
If I’m honest, today has been nice. When my parents divorced, there were no longer big holiday dinners with lots of family. It was mostly me with my dad on Christmas Eve, then with my mom on Christmas Day. Just us. Always just us. My mom didn’t have any family, and my dad’s family wanted nothing to do with my mom.
“Child, a man knows everything he needs to know about a woman the very moment they meet,” Miss Ina says. “You don’t need to give your milk away for him to know more. I met my late husband on a Monday and married him that Friday. He knew. We both knew what we were to each other—without any kind of taste test.”
I cough into my hand to cover my laugh.
“That’s amazing, Miss Ina, but the world is a different place now. Dating nowadays isn’t like it used to be,” Libby tells her truthfully. “Most people my age want casual relationships until they feel they are ready to start a family. Now most people I know don’t date seriously unless they are looking to have a child, and then they are only looking for someone they believe will be a good parent, not necessarily a good partner.”
“Bawww,” Miss Ina says loudly, tossing out her hand. “You kids and all your fancy gadgets. You’re always twittering, matching, and farmering.”
“Farmering?” Libby repeats.
I wonder what the hell farmering is.
“Just yesterday, I saw an ad trying to recruit women to be farmers’ wives on the television. What is this world coming to?” She shakes her head as her lip curls up in disgust. “You kids are so caught up in those gadgets you carry around in your hands that you don’t even notice what’s right in front of you anymore.”
“That’s very true,” my mom agrees, nodding her head. “But Libby is also right. Dating nowadays isn’t what it used to be.” She picks up her wineglass to take a sip. “Even at my age, it was hard finding someone who wanted more than just a hookup.”
“What is a hookup?” Miss Ina asks, frowning.
Libby leans to her side, “whispering” loud enough for everyone to hear. “It’s another way of saying that you’re giving your milk away for free.”
“I know that, girl.” Miss Ina glares at Libby, who smiles.
When we first got into the car that morning, I could tell that Libby didn’t know what to think of Miss Ina. I don’t know what changed, but about halfway to Long Island, something did. She started giving the older woman a hard time—and has clearly gotten a kick out of getting a rise out of her since then.
“We didn’t ‘hook up’ in my day. We didn’t live with each other for fun. We didn’t play house. We met, we got married, we moved in together, and we had kids. Then we stayed married until the day one of us died.”
“I’m glad it’s not like that anymore,” Libby says, looking around the table. “I know some people were happy, but there had to be a lot of people, a lot of women, who were unhappy and unable to do anything about it because society would have cast them out.”