Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 67733 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 339(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67733 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 339(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
Dad’s hum is slow and attention grabbing. “I see.”
Something in the back of my mind is telling me I don’t like where this is about to go.
“This is about your bloody ego.” Dad doesn’t pause long enough for me to debate otherwise. “You have not accepted the fact that you are the man she truly wants in her life because you feel inadequate to someone who is older and more established and known her for longer.”
Okay.
Perhaps.
“Nephew,” Uncle Raff starts to smile, “there is almost always going to be someone around that is better at shite than you. That’s life. And being in love is part of life. Therefore, there will always be someone who exists to be a better match on paper.”
“That is not comforting,” is mumble louder than anticipated.
“Doesn’t matter that it’s not comforting,” Dad snaps his interjection. “Just like it doesn’t matter if that person exists or where they are because that person isn’t what your lady wants. What she wants is the man she’s chosen.”
“What she wants is the man that makes her smile like you do.” Uncle Rían kindly insists.
I honestly do not know what I would do without hers in my life.
“The man who takes care of her when she’s not even thinkin’ about it,” Uncle Raff references most likely from personal experience.
While I don’t love that she forgets to eat on long shifts sometimes, I do love that I know she’s taken pre sliced apples that I cut for her and dip that my mom taught me to make.
“This bloke may have more money or power or intelligence than you do; however, he will never love her like you do, son, and that in itself is the only thing that really matters.”
My shoulders finally unhinge themselves from next to my ears.
“Give her a little time to settle down,” Uncle Raff nonchalantly suggests. “Give yourself a little time to do the same.”
“And then drag your nuts over there – while praying to God that she doesn’t kick you in them – to apologize,” Uncle Rían lightly chuckles. “That shite hurts.”
It’s impossible to hide my laughter. “Holy hell, Aunt La-La kicked you in the nuts?!”
“It may or may not have been deserved.”
“Very deserved,” Uncle Raff declares.
“Absolutely,” Dad quickly echoes.
“You two want to talk about the shite you’ve deserved to be kicked in the O’Clery makers for?” Uncle Rían begins with mirth in his voice. “Where should we start? Vegas?”
“Don’t start there,” Dad grumbles while profusely shaking his head. “Can we start anywhere but there? It was my bloody wedding day!”
“You ready for this, nephew?” Uncle Rían devilishly starts, convincing me to lean back into a more comfortable position to take Uncle Raff’s advice.
This is exactly what I need.
A bit of breathing room.
A little family time.
And enough tales about what not to do to help me stop making this stupid mistake.
No part of my soul believes what’s between me and Harper is over, yet every part of it knows it’s up to me guarantee that it stays that way.
She is not only the mother of our future child.
She is my future wife.
The love of my life.
My everything.
Chapter 13
Harper
For most people who watch the possible weather patterns that could impact their area it’s either because they’ve got travel that they have to do or it’s a weird hobby their spouses don’t understand.
In my case?
It’s critical to my job.
And not just in the city or county predictions.
We fly all across this state as well as the neighboring ones of Wisconsin, Illinois, Indiana, Ohio, and even Pennsylvania, although I’ve personally only ever flown to the latter once, and it was for an ex-college hockey player who needed a new lung. Considering how much I love hockey that trip felt like it was oddly meant for me. Thankfully, we made it in time for the transplant.
Pretty sure he lived.
Don’t usually get those details unless…well, unless we didn’t make it.
It happens.
But I do everything fucking possible to prevent that being due to shitty transportation.
“Thanks again for giving Kan a job,” Nat says from the chair on the opposite side of the desk.
I reluctantly pull my attention away from the BINGO board of weather I’ve been monitoring to warmly state, “I didn’t give her the job. She was just the most qualified and professional candidate we saw.”
Nat instantly tilts her head in a sarcastic nature.
“Fine, her cousin being my best friend may have given her the tiniest edge, but not enough to make a difference worth noting. One person showed up to the interview in flipflops. One person misspelled their own name on the application. And Kan’s stiffest competition didn’t like that holidays weren’t automatically given off.” The eye roll I execute is done absentmindedly. “Like look, kid, I don’t even get each one off. I have to fucking work Thanksgiving. Transplants don’t really give a shit about the calendar,” my stare cuts another glance at the multiple windows open, “or the weather for that matter.” When our gazes connect again, I add, “And it’s not like she’s got a cushy or glamorous office job worth bragging about, Nat. She’s washing and detailing transport vehicles during shit hours for mediocre pay with a minor possibility for growth down the line.”