Total pages in book: 151
Estimated words: 141634 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 708(@200wpm)___ 567(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141634 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 708(@200wpm)___ 567(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
“Who’s got your cheeks all rosy?” she asks, eyeing me suspiciously.
“Um, the temperature outside?” It’s a lame suggestion but a plausible one.
“Where’s your phone?”
I hold my purse close to my chest, and she lunges at me and screams. I fall back onto the bed and a fight for my purse ensues. Seconds later, Mom bursts into the bedroom and Cookie stands up with a giant smile on her face, holding my purse over her head like a champion. Five years ago we would have been in so much trouble for this, but Mom just laughs.
Cookie reaches into my bag and pulls out my phone. “Looks like you have a text from someone named Miller. Let’s see what it says.”
“Oh shit,” I whisper, and suddenly my mom doesn’t think it’s so funny.
Chapter Six
MILLER
I stare at the message I sent to Pumpkin and wait for a response while Frost addresses the boardroom. He’s telling them about the sale and what our next steps will be. This is all something that could have been done over an email, but he felt like the board members should hear it directly from us now that our plans to come home have changed.
We weren’t supposed to be here, and yet I can’t help but be thankful that I was on that flight. Thankful to meet my sweet Pumpkin.
“Miller,” my brother says, and I look up from my phone. “Do you have anything to add?”
He scowls at me, and I nod as I stand up from my seat. “Meeting is adjourned.”
I walk out of the boardroom without a backward glance, but I can feel my brother's eyes burning into my back. He takes things too seriously sometimes, and it’s my job to remind my twin that he’s got to let go every once in a while. Too bad it never works.
Frost and I share an office on this floor, and when I walk inside, I see the landscape of the city below. I step to the wall of glass and look out, wondering where Pumpkin is and what she's doing right now. I message the driver and ask for the address of where he dropped her off, and I don’t analyze why I want it so badly.
“What’s gotten into you?” Frost scolds as he closes our office door and goes over to his desk. “This is important, Miller, you can’t just fuck off at the finish line.”
“What do they care? They’re all making enough money that their generations never have to work again.” I wave a hand dismissively as he curses me in Russian.
“You’re obsessed with your phone.” When I look over at him, he’s cutting his eyes at me. “Is she texting you?”
I shrug and tuck it into my pocket. I’m not ready to reveal everything to Frost, which is unlike us. We don’t keep secrets. “Have you heard from our mother?”
He takes a seat in his chair and leans back, sighing. “She called and left a voicemail.” He tosses his phone onto his desk and then a moment later he hits a button and her voice fills the office.
“Hello, Frost, please let your brother know that I want to meet tomorrow to discuss important matters. Your father will be here, so I expect you both to be on your best behavior.” There’s a long pause as if she is summoning her patience. “You both owe me.”
Frost shuts his phone off, and neither of us says anything for a long time. I don’t know that we owe her anything, but there is a guilt that comes along with the favors she asks. She might not have been a good mother, but they did the right thing and sent us away, together. For a long time our father threatened to separate us, and I knew that would have killed Frost and me. He knew it too, which was why it was his favorite weapon.
“Do you think she wants money?” Frost finally asks.
“Why not just ask for it? She knows we would gladly pay it to not see her.”
Our relationship is complicated, and I hate that one phone call from her occupies so much of our headspace. Most of the time we never speak their names and don’t bring up the painful memories. But when our mother calls, it all comes back, and I can feel everything Frost does. The anxiety, the guilt, the longing. It’s all too much, and I don’t know how much longer we can do it.
“Thanksgiving is in two days, but she wants to see us tomorrow,” Frost says, and the statement makes me think.
Normally our parents throw lavish holiday parties, so it’s strange she would want us there the day before and not the day of.
“Maybe it’s a ploy to get us to attend.”
Vera knocks lightly on the door and steps inside. “I had a late lunch delivered.” She wheels in a tray, and my stomach grumbles as our office manager lays out food for us.