Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 115198 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 576(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115198 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 576(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
My dad, dancing.
“Here he is,” Vivi says before passing the phone to my dad.
“Kiddo!” he shouts. “This is fantastic news!”
“Can you even believe it?”
“I can absolutely believe it. I am so proud of you, honey.”
With a smile, I ring off and stand in place, letting it all sink in. I do the math, at which I am terrible, and realize that even if I pay off all of Dad’s medical debt and his future treatment co-pays, with the money from Liam and the sale of these paintings, we can afford two months of daily physical therapy to get him back to health.
It isn’t forever, and it’s insane to me how fast the money goes, but it’s enough. It’s all we need.
* * *
EVEN THE NEW PRESENCE of Ray at the breakfast table when I return isn’t enough to dim my elation. And since with this crowd I am supposed to be better at dissecting cadavers than at wielding a paintbrush, I can’t burst into song about how, for the first time in my life, I sold not one but three actual paintings. But I do try to communicate as much of my joy as possible when I look at Liam across the table.
“What happened?” he mouths.
“I’ll tell you later.” My foot finds his leg under the table, and he captures it between his calves, squeezing, looking at me with curiosity and adoration. We get lost into a spiral of eye contact. I’m not in his brain, obviously, but I’d bet my next three orgasms that we’re thinking the same thing, which is exactly how much time he plans to spend with his face between my thighs when the wedding reception wraps up tonight.
The sound of a fork dropping onto porcelain breaks through my trance, and I blink over to where Ray is now impatiently wiping his mouth on a napkin. “They just canceled now?”
Charlie, looking miserably down at her phone, nods. “Apparently a pipe burst upstairs, and the entire house is flooded.”
“Surely there’s something else nearby.” Janet, ever the placater, pulls out her phone, too, and begins searching.
Ray looks over her shoulder and swipes it out of her hand. “Why are you looking at rentals?”
“Because it’s only two weeks, Raymond. It’s just a honeymoon.”
“It’s her only honeymoon, and the same shit could happen. I told you: it never works to rent.” He leans forward, looking at Charlie. “If we bought instead, would you two use it?”
Charlie and Kellan grin at each other. “Of course!” she sings.
I look around, trying to figure out what the fuck is happening. Are they really talking about buying… houses? Liam is in his own little world, frowning out at the surf behind my shoulder. Blaire leans over, her ketone-warmed breath sour on my cheek when she explains, “You are hearing this correctly. Ray is suggesting they buy a house for Charlie’s honeymoon.”
I swallow around a rapidly swelling cork of “what the fuck” forming in my windpipe.
Ray slams the phone down on the table with a note of smug finality. “Done.”
“Ray,” Janet says quietly.
“What?” he says, waving to one of the waitstaff and snapping at his empty glass. “They needed a wedding gift. I got them a wedding gift.”
“They already have one, darling. The…” She stares at him meaningfully.
“What?” he asks, exasperated. “I can’t read your mind.”
“The house we already bought them?”
Ray snaps his fingers again. “The Newport Coast place. Sure. But this is different. This is a vacation investment. Nobody seems to work here so I’m gonna find a drink.” He stands, kissing the top of Charlie’s head. “I’ll have Terry handle it so it’ll be ready for you.”
I blink. I mean, I know nothing about escrows and whatnot but I’m pretty sure houses aren’t bought in a day. “Isn’t their honeymoon, like, tomorrow?” I ask.
No one pays me any attention, and Ray turns to leave and barrels right into a woman carrying a tray of mimosas. Glasses sail through the air, crashing with bright chaos onto the patio; one lands on Janet’s lap, and Ray is absolutely doused in orange juice and champagne.
“Are you fucking blind?” he roars, and the woman falls to her knees beside Janet, scrambling for napkins to mop up the orange lake on the lap of her Dior loungewear. Waiters rush over with brooms and mops, sweeping up the piles of broken glass, cleaning the floor.
“Hello?” Ray booms, throwing his hands up. “Does anyone have a towel for me?”
Charlie and Kellan rush to stand, handing him their napkins as another waiter comes over with a towel that Ray snatches from his hand and uses to mop at his shirt, a polo with the logo of some corporate golf tournament printed on the pocket. His eyes are the color of a muddy puddle and just as deep, as he stares down at the waitress still trying to help Janet dry off.