Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 79553 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79553 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
“I hope you’re right.” I kiss the corner of her mouth. “How are you feeling?”
“Better.”
“Good, your cereal is in the room. Let’s get you fed and full of vitamin C, and we’ll spend the night watching some Damon and Elena.”
Kendall rolls her eyes. “I can’t believe you’re Team Damon.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing.” She shrugs. “It’s just… you’re a good guy, so I figured you’d want the good guy to get the girl.”
“It’s not about good and bad,” I tell her. “Damon is the right guy for her. Doesn’t matter who he is or what he’s done… When it’s right, it’s right.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
KENDALL
“Jesus H. Christ.” I groan as I suck in my gut, quickly buttoning my pants before releasing my breath. I’ve tried on several outfits, but none of them fit. And unless I want to go to my parents’ place, and later, meet Declan’s parents, in sweats, I need something to fit. I have a few dresses I could wear, but none of them are meant to be worn to Sunday brunch. The problem with living bi-coastal is that no matter which house you’re at, the item you need always ends up being at the other one.
After I’m almost positive the button isn’t going to pop off, I put on my heels, double-check my makeup and hair, and head out to meet Declan, who’s been ready for the past hour—damn men have it so much easier than women.
“Ready?” he asks, standing and placing his phone into his pocket. Dressed in a white button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, a pair of gray linen pants that fit him perfectly, and a pair of white sneakers, he makes dressy-casual look so damn good.
“Women should really take a page out of a man’s playbook.” I shake my head. “Getting up, taking a shower, throwing on the closest items of clothing they can find, and dropping onto the couch, ready to go. This whole doing my hair and makeup and finding the right outfit takes up too much of my damn time. And after all that, I still don’t come close to looking as sexy as you do.”
With a lazy grin, he pulls me against him. “I love when you dress up in your tight little outfits and do your hair and makeup, but I can assure you, you’re just as sexy when you wake up, with your hair a mess and your face free of all makeup.”
On the outside, I roll my eyes, but deep down, I love every word he says. Especially since right now, I’m not feeling sexy at all.
“Thank you,” I tell him, refusing to let my insecurities get to me.
The drive to my parents’ place doesn’t take too long, and when we arrive, since we’re the last to do so, everyone is already in the family room chatting away.
“Auntie K!” my nephew Felix yells, running over to give me a hug. “I got the best dance! You gonna do it with me on TikTok?” Felix is almost six years old with the personality of a teenager and is one of the best dancers I’ve ever seen. He’s appeared in several music videos and has millions of followers on TikTok—that his mom monitors and doesn’t let him on, aside from doing the trending dances.
“Of course!” When I reach down to give him a hug, the button on my pants pops off, and the material attached to the zipper splits right open.
The button hits the hardwood floor with a clanking sound, and Felix grabs it. “Oh man, your pants just ripped!” he says, pointing out the obvious, loud enough for everyone to hear. “I bet my mom can fix it.” He hands me back the button. “When I ripped my Justin Bieber Halloween costume, she fixed it.”
“Thanks,” I mutter. “Apparently, a couple of months of eating whatever I wanted and not going to the gym has caught up to me.” I glance at my mom. “Can I borrow something?”
“Of course.” She smiles sweetly. “Let’s go to my room.” She wraps her arm around me and kisses my temple.
“Happy Mother’s Day,” I tell her, leaning into her. “Dad spoil you?”
“Of course,” she says with hearts in her eyes. I love that even after all these years, my parents are just as, if not more, in love than they were in the beginning. They are total relationship goals.
“You want another pair of pants?” she asks, turning on the light in her massive walk-in closet as we enter.
“Better go with a dress. We’re the same size, and none of my pants are fitting.” I groan. “Something Mother’s Day appropriate since we’re going to Declan’s parents’ place afterward.”
“How about this?” She shows me a beautiful light pink flowy dress with wide sleeves. The neckline is a bit low, but it’s the perfect mix of sexy and classy, and because it’s loose, nothing should rip or pop open.