Total pages in book: 166
Estimated words: 160356 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 802(@200wpm)___ 641(@250wpm)___ 535(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 160356 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 802(@200wpm)___ 641(@250wpm)___ 535(@300wpm)
“Shut up.”
I laugh as he pulls me on, and I hear the familiar sound of little knuckles wrapping on a window. I drop Dec’s hand and pull the door open.
“Are you finished work now?” Albi asks, leaning forward to meet my lips as I pucker up.
“I’m finished.”
“Yay!”
“Hi, Mr. Percival,” I say, hearing his chirpy reply as I round the car and get in the back with Albi. “What’s the plan?”
“Shhh,” Albi says, making me frown.
“Why am I shushing?”
“Mr. Percival has a headache.”
He does? I lean between the seats, checking him over in the front seat as Dec pulls off. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, yes, dear, perfectly fine.” Then he gasps and reaches for his ear, holding it. “Bleeding headache, that’s all.”
I look at Dec. “We should take him to his doctor.” I sit back and fish through my bag for my phone, worried. “How long has it hurt, Mr. Percival?”
“What, dear?”
“Your head,” I say, going to my contacts to find his surgery’s number. “How long has it hurt?”
“Oh, just for a little while, dear.”
“You need to lie down, don’t you, Mr. P?” Dec says.
“Yes, yes, a lie down would do the trick.”
“No, I think you should see your doctor.” I lean forward again. “Maybe the smoke from the tea towel has gone to his head.”
“For the love of God,” he mutters. “Everyone, stop fussing!”
I rest back and raise my brows, looking at Dec in the rearview mirror, catching that his brows are raised too. Yeah, good luck telling him that he’s getting assistance or moving into our place. Dec must read me, because when he pulls up at a red light, he turns to Mr. P. “I’ve been thinking,” he says, clearing his throat.
“And watcha been thinking?”
“You’re coming to live with us, and I don’t want any arguments about it, okay? You’re nearly one hundred and one, and—”
“Okay,” Mr. Percival says, simple as that. Dec recoils. So do I.
“Oh my gosh,” Albi sings. “Mr. Percival, you can sleep in my teepee! We can have milk and cookies together before bedtime, and you can help me build my Lego. Daddy and Camryn decorated my bedroom in Spitfires too! I’ll show you. And I have a bunk bed now. I sleep on top. You can sleep on the bottom one.”
“Jeez, kid, put a sock in it, will you? I’m supposed to have a headache.”
Dec snorts, and I laugh, frowning. “So, again, what’s the plan?” I ask. “I need to pop to the store and I have some deliveries to collect.”
“I need sticky tape!” Albi declares.
“I need some Scotch,” Dec adds.
“I need a nap,” Mr. Percival says.
“Okay, let’s take Mr. Percival home, I can quickly change, and then we can go to the store.”
“Shhh,” Albi hisses, his finger at his mouth.
“Sorry,” I whisper.
Then he grins. Albi’s grins are like sunshine—pure, bright and warming. I hold my hand out to him, and he takes it, squeezing hard. “Love you, fella,” I say, my heart swelling.
“Love you back, Camryn,” he says, so casually. Like he doesn’t understand the weight of those words. And he might not, but I do know that he does, in fact, love me.
“What about me?” Dec asks from up front, casting his eyes to the rear-view mirror to me.
“I love you too,” I say, smiling.
“But she loves me more,” Albi replies, again casual, looking out of the window while still clinging onto my hand.
He truly doesn’t understand the weight of those words.
“And that will always be okay,” Dec, murmurs, smiling at the road.
Once we’re home, Dec walks Mr. Percival up the steps as Albi and I run off in front. “Won’t be long,” I call, letting us in and throwing my keys on the console table and kicking my shoes off. “Do you need the bathroom before we go back out?” I ask Albi, noticing the telltale sign of him fidgeting as he goes into his playroom and puts a few more pieces on his latest Lego creation. “Albi,” I say.
“Yeah?”
“Do you need the bathroom?”
“No.”
I huff and go to him, dipping and pulling him to his feet. “Go pee,” I order gently. Always too busy to pee.
“Okay, okay,” he moans, running to the downstairs loo. And always in a mad rush.
On that thought, I dash upstairs and quickly get changed, rushing back down. I grab my boots, hearing Dec in the lounge with Mr. Percival.
April breezes through the door, Blaine in tow, carrying dozens of bags, and freezes when she spots me.
“You’re early,” I say, checking my phone as I pull a boot on. It’s only three o’clock. They’re supposed to be here at six.
“Oh, we both got done in the office sooner than we thought so decided we’d make our way over.”
“We’ve got to pop to the shops.”
“No problem.” Blaine pushes past me, heading to the kitchen. “We’ll unpack and get food on for tonight.”