Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 138003 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 690(@200wpm)___ 552(@250wpm)___ 460(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138003 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 690(@200wpm)___ 552(@250wpm)___ 460(@300wpm)
“It looks like you two are having fun,” Polly says with a smile. “And this must be Daisy.”
Daisy does her worried-but-trying-to-hide-it smile, the same she’d greeted me with, as she steps toward us. “I’m pleased to meet you,” she offers softly, the poor kid’s gaze flicking back to the mess and her no-pressure project.
“And I you,” replies my mum. “It looks like you’re making a masterpiece.”
The little girl nods.
“Then don’t let me stop you.”
With a grateful grin, she hurries back.
“A budding artist,” Mum says.
I lean my shoulder against the wall, glad I’d also changed into an old pair of jeans for our painting experiment. “One unafraid to take risks.” At least, I hope she’s learning to now.
My mother’s expression is soft as she takes me in. “Sounds like someone else I know.”
“Can’t think who,” I half grunt.
“Can’t you?”
“My days of recklessness are over.”
“Oh, are they?”
Well, I suppose I walked into that one.
I watch as she pulls an old wooden stool closer, dusting it off with her hand. Then dumps her Birkin to the floor and her bum to the stool. It always tickles me that she treats that purse like one of those supermarket bags for life. The Birkin was Whit’s first expensive gift to her after he’d hit it big. He still winces when he sees her abuse it. Which, of course, tickles me to no end.
“She seems like a sweet little girl.”
“Yeah, she is.”
“And Raif is a good father?”
“So you’re not here to see if I’ve been Svengali’d, then?”
“That’s a noun, Lavender, not a verb.”
“Yes, I know.” Hearing my mum say that is much less of a turn-on.
“I don’t think you’ve been hypnotized, darling. But you have had your head turned by a man with magnetism.”
I make a noncommittal noise, keeping my attention focused on Daisy. Raif has way more than magnetism. He looks like a Greek god, possesses buckets of sexual voodoo, and has the kind of dirty mouth that would make a sex worker blush. He’s insanely rich. Kind and funny in a really dry way, which is totally my bag.
Urgh! He has all that going for him, and it’s so unfair. Pick a lane, Raify bear. Give the rest of us a starting chance!
“He’s quite something,” my mother murmurs to herself.
“He’s my husband.” God, that sounds so weird.
“Yes. I suppose I’m still coming to terms with how you’d never mentioned him before. Not about meeting him or knowing him, let alone…”
Maybe I should’ve just straight up said we’d been fuck buddies. She might’ve understood that better. But who wants to say that sort of stuff in front of their mum? Especially when that mum thinks there should be nothing beyond the realms of conversation between her and her children.
“And then, of course, there’s Tod.”
“What about Tod?”
“For the longest time, I assumed you had a thing for him. You do live with the man.”
“Tod is my friend.” Actually, I don’t really know what Tod is. Apart from selfish.
It’s not like I was in love with him. I don’t think I could’ve fancied him that much either.
On Friday night, I’d thought I might like him to kiss me, but it must’ve been the champagne. I suppose I had sort of made us a couple already in my head, especially living and working together. But now I see he treated me more like I was his mother than a potential life partner. Borrowing money, eating the contents of my fridge, getting himself in trouble and expecting me to sort it out.
I might as well have adopted a teenager.
When I compare Tod to how I feel about Raif, there really is no comparison. The latter makes my tummy flip, and my knees go a bit rubbery. And when his body brushes mine, my whole insides light up like a pinball machine.
“He looks so miserable,” Polly says with a sad-sounding sigh. “Poor dear. I just saw him inside.”
“Look, Mum,” I say, turning to her. “He’s just sulking. What’s done is done.” Ain’t that the truth. “I didn’t have plans to get married this weekend, and I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings. When Raif asked me to marry him, I wasn’t thinking about anyone but myself.” Ain’t that the truth, part II. “I know that was selfish of me and—”
I halt as Polly lifts a negligent hand to wave away my words. “I’m not here to play the injured party, Lavender. Your life is your own, and I would much rather you not let the thought of other people affect your happiness.”
“Thank you,” I say, my voice sounding small.
“Grab joy where and when you can.”
My lips begin to tip with a dirty thought. Next time I make a grab for Raif’s junk, should I tell him my mother said I was allowed? I have a feeling his penis will make me very joyful. The man attached to it doesn’t make me feel too bad.