Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 87255 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87255 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
I get to my feet, slipping on a Tennessee Royals shirt that Renn let me borrow to walk to the kitchen last night. It hangs like a dress. But there’s something wonderful about being encompassed by something of his.
My toiletries are in a bag on the counter in the bathroom. I’m not sure how they got there, but when we woke in the middle of the night, still wonky from our traveling, and hopped in the shower, there they were.
I quickly brush my teeth, wash my face, and comb my hair. Then I venture into the closet.
Just as Astrid promised, a box of my things is on the square table in the center of the room. The llama propped up beside it makes me smile.
Brock packed a random assortment of shirts, shorts, shoes, and dresses. Thank God he didn’t get into my lingerie drawer. That would’ve been awkward. He added my computer and planner—because I refuse to go fully digital, and every item sitting on my vanity. At the bottom of the box is a note on top of a framed picture of me, him, and our mother from my living room.
Tears fill my eyes.
B,
You have twenty-six lip balms. Did you know that? WHY?
Renn asked me to grab you some things. I did my best. I locked everything when I left and set the security system. You had food in the fridge, and I’m sure you’re not returning to get it. So I took it. You know I love hummus.
I know I’ve been an asshole, and I’d like to apologize to you in person. You’re my favorite person in the world (don’t tell Ella that). You deserve a face-to-face conversation. Please call me when you get back.
Brock
I place the note on the counter and dress. Oh, Brock.
It’s felt so wrong to be at odds with my brother. He’s been my person for so long, so for him to write this note means he’s struggled with the past few days as much as I have. I could use one of your hugs right now, brother.
I blink back a tear.
My emotions are all over the place. I’m sure it’s the culmination of the past week, topped with Brock remembering to send a picture of us with our mother that’s the cause. Still … I hate being overly emotional.
I trace my fingers over the glass—something I’ve done a million times. The three of us are so happy in the image. I remember Mom asking a stranger to stop and snap a picture that day, slinging her arms around our waists. Brock is bent, whispering something that I’m sure was wholly inappropriate. Her face is mid-laugh. My head is on Mom’s shoulder while I cheese for the camera.
Sniffling, I stand the picture under the llama. “Keep this safe, okay?”
My cheeks are damp. I wipe them with the hem of my shirt as I journey through Renn’s house.
The ceilings look higher, the molding more detailed. The rooms are more magical today. Ceiling fans cause the extra-long curtains to flutter against the beautiful floor.
I find my phone next to the sink. Leaning against the cabinet, I open the screen and see a list of texts—but my interest goes to the one on top. Renn’s.
Renn: Good morning, cutie. It was so hard, pun intended, to get out of bed with you still in it this morning. Why aren’t we still in Australia again? I have a physical and a meeting with the Royals today. Their facility is close to Bianca’s office, so I might swing by before coming home. Mom has already “suggested” we have a family dinner tomorrow night so everyone can meet you. If that’s too much pressure, say the word. I’ll never argue about getting to keep you all to myself.
I smile.
Me: Good morning, handsome. You’ll have to wake up a little earlier so it’s not so hard when you get out of bed. Pun intended. I will check my email, try to figure out what I still need, and grab it from my house. Family dinner sounds fun. Will I get to meet Tate? I hope you have a great day. I’ll be home when you get here.
This. I hold my phone to my chest and close my eyes. This feeling is what I’ve always been after.
The device buzzes against me.
Renn: Tate isn’t invited. You can be mad at me, but Foxx is there with you. I asked him to accompany you if you leave. Please don’t fight me on this. We can talk about it tonight, but I need to focus today, and I can’t do that if I’m worried about you.
I want to be annoyed at him. If it were any other person or situation, I would be. I’d probably leave to prove a point. But … I’m not. And I won’t.