Total pages in book: 150
Estimated words: 148434 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 742(@200wpm)___ 594(@250wpm)___ 495(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 148434 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 742(@200wpm)___ 594(@250wpm)___ 495(@300wpm)
Xander asked to fight, so we can’t pin fault on Tony for being “hands off” at my cousin’s request. It’s why our parents still believe he’s an asset to the team. He’s just not the right fit for Xander.
Farrow and Thatcher know the complexities behind our feelings—why Moffy can’t hate Tony for those recent events. And why I can’t either.
“It wasn’t Tony,” I tell Moffy. “My mom and dad were here this morning.” I stroke my cat’s tuxedo fur. “It was as frightening as expected.”
Moffy gives me an empathetic wince. “That bad?”
Farrow has a boot on the chair. “Moretti is still alive.” He eyes Thatcher who leaves the kitchen, carrying kibble in little cat bowls. Walrus and Carpenter make a mad dash to him, jumping at his calves.
“It wasn’t that bad,” Thatcher says seriously.
Curiosity pools, and I bow forward like he is gravity, a magnetic pull—all things that wrench me to him. “You really weren’t scared when my dad started talking about how you’re six-seven and could hurt me while we’re having sex?”
Farrow almost chokes on a bite of Lo Mein.
Maximoff laughs like he just beat his fiancé at Rock ‘Em Sock ‘Em Robots.
The best (and quite frankly, sexiest) part: Thatcher is unperturbed and unflustered by the tiny grenade I flung. “No,” he tells me. “I wasn’t scared.”
I help him fill water bowls for the cats. “You think it went well then?” I wonder.
He glances at me, before wiping up a small spill. “Better than I thought it would.”
But he’s still not invited to Wednesday Night Dinner, and I can only hope my family welcomes him into the fold. I don’t want my boyfriend to feel ostracized.
“Jane,” Farrow says after a swig of water. “Maximoff has something to ask you.”
“You do?” I cap a water jug near the unlit fireplace.
Moffy gives him a tough look. “I thought you said after dinner?”
“Now’s good too.” Farrow is completely at ease.
And Maximoff is a rigid statue.
Farrow lifts his brows. “See, that’s called changing your mind.”
He shakes his head. “No idea what you’re talking about. Changing your mind? Is that like a thing people do?”
Farrow smiles from cheek-to-cheek. “Okay, smartass.”
Maximoff tightens the towel around his waist and runs a hand through his thick hair. I’m more concerned that this is bad news, and I hug the water jug.
“Do I need to sit?” I wonder.
He swallows. “No—sure. Maybe. I don’t know.”
Farrow looks him over. “Take a breath, wolf scout.”
Maximoff glares instead.
Farrow almost laughs. “That’s not how you breathe, but nice try.”
“I’ll sit.” I lower on the rocking chair, swaying a little when my butt hits the seat.
Thatcher almost steals my full attention. He’s brushing Ophelia, and my white cat is absolute mush on the floor.
Yes, Ophelia, he has that affect on me too. I know the feeling deeply well.
“Janie,” Moffy calls.
I realize that Thatcher did indeed steal all of my attention. I flush and focus on my best friend. “Yes, old chap.”
“I trust you with my whole life,” Maximoff tells me.
The fact warms me completely, but I’m also on the edge of a cliff. “I trust you with mine too.”
He licks his lips. “As you know, I’m getting married, and the amount of people I trust to have their hands in the wedding is pretty much…not a lot. And when I think about who I want to remember being involved in this whole process, I always think of you first.”
I start to smile.
“So…what I’m trying to ask… is if you could…would you want to…?” He stumbles on his words, and it isn’t often that he does.
My smile fades.
Farrow glances between me and Maximoff worriedly. Mostly because we can all sense Moffy’s nerves.
“You can ask me,” I say softly, having a small guess about where this is leading.
His shoulders are braced as though I’m about to reject him. “Would you plan our wedding for us? I know it’s a big undertaking and a ton of work—”
“Yes,” I cut him off, my smile already reappearing.
“Yes?” he asks in disbelief.
“Yes, of course. I will plan your wedding. I’d love to.” My heart swells just at the fact that they would want me to be such a big part of this. “Though, I don’t understand why you’d be so nervous to ask me.”
“I know we’ve talked before about you being involved in the wedding, but planning the entire thing is a big deal. And I don’t want this to interfere with your life.” He gestures to me. “You put everything on hold for me, and this is just another thing. I shouldn’t even be asking you—”
“Please stop.” I rise to my feet, setting the water jug aside. “You’re not interfering. There’s nothing to interfere with. I am a jobless, aimless person right now, so it’s the perfect time to ask me.”
He grimaces. “No, you should be focusing on you and finding your passion.” He looks to Farrow. “I shouldn’t have asked her.”