Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 97592 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97592 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Thankfully, chatter is ever present among the kiddos that fill the Calhoun Elementary auditorium, and by all indications, the presentations have yet to start. Brooke and Noah are already up on the stage, poised in folding chairs while they chat with my eldest son Seth’s teacher and the organizer of this event, Ms. Katy Dayton. I make a beeline straight for them.
My phone buzzes with another reply from Zoe, but I trust that she has Grant handled for now and focus on the present.
Brooke spots me as I approach, just as Ms. Dayton runs down the stairs located on the opposite side of the stage. We make eye contact briefly from across the room, and I nod hello to the woman I’ve had enough parent-teacher meetings with this year to be on a first-name basis.
Ms. Dayton offers a smile, but her attention is on something behind me as she moves on quick feet toward the back of the auditorium.
I don’t waste any time jogging up the stairs located stage right and head for my heavily pregnant sister. My eyes survey the roundness of her belly under her maxi dress as I close the distance between us. She’s completely adorable and about seven months along, but for a woman as clumsy as her, she might as well be a year into this pregnancy.
The big ball of fur curled up at her feet—otherwise known as her German shepherd Benji—is dressed up like Batman and has a vest on his back that’s labeled with “Service Dog” and “Do not pet me, please.” Unlike me, he really is a superhero.
“Do you have the goods?” Brooke asks immediately, not bothering with the pleasantries of a greeting.
“Yes, I have your chicken parm. Vinny went in early just to make it for you so I could fulfill my end of the bribe.”
“I’d say I’m sorry for Vinny’s and your trouble, but I’m not sorry. Signing someone up to speak to a room full of elementary kids without checking with them first has consequences,” Brooke says with a shrug.
Real talk: My seven-year-old Seth is a bit of a troublemaker, and because of all the class distractions he’s caused Ms. Dayton this year, I felt compelled to find a way to repay her. Too bad for my famous author sister, I volunteered her as my personal tribute.
“You’re lucky that Vinny is your soon-to-be brother-in-law and that you’re one of his wife’s favorite people. He doesn’t make special batches of chicken parm for just anyone.”
Truth be told, I’m incredibly lucky too. Vinny and his wife, Mo—short for Maureen—are such great bosses. I met them through Chase—Mo is his older sister—and I’ve been working as the general manager at their restaurant La Croisette ever since I moved my boys and myself from a house—where I could hardly take a shit with the doors on—in midwest Ohio to New York City.
Make that thrice we’ve landed on the whole long story thing.
Brooke just grins and shamelessly takes the purse off my shoulder, opening the takeout container inside to get a whiff.
“Jeez, Brookie. Tell me you’re not going to eat that right now, on this stage, in front of all these kids.” My voice melts into a whisper. “Anarchy will ensue, and quite frankly, I’m probably already on this school’s no-fly list, thanks to my son trying to earn Class Clown MVP for the year.”
“Relax. I just needed a little hit.”
Noah chuckles, and for the first time since I’ve arrived, I allow myself to look at him directly.
Of course, like always, he looks damn good. Thick dark brown hair, intense blue eyes, strong jaw, and the kind of full lips that could serve as Webster’s definition for “kissable,” the attractiveness that is Noah Philips is impossible to miss.
It’s for the best that he’s an anesthesiologist for pediatric patients. Any adult woman who would have to look up into his eyes during surgery would be at risk for heart palpitations, and the hospital would no doubt be dealing with litigation from insurance companies over too many unnecessary surgeries as women tore themselves up for a chance to have him put them to sleep.
Despite what my sister thinks—and has pushed on me to the point of annoyance—I have no business trying to date someone like him.
His magnetism rivals the intensity of the sun, and I’m nothing more than a messy mortal.
“Hi, Noah,” I greet, but my voice comes out a little self-conscious. I involuntarily tuck some of my wildly escaping hair behind my ear as a distraction. “Thanks again for doing this for me.”
“Of course.” He smiles up at me, bright and beaming, and I try not to let it go to my head. “I just wish I’d known we were allowed to ask for La Croisette food bribes. I could really go for some white-wine-soaked mussels right now.”