Total pages in book: 179
Estimated words: 170878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 854(@200wpm)___ 684(@250wpm)___ 570(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 170878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 854(@200wpm)___ 684(@250wpm)___ 570(@300wpm)
Tiffany and Tina were also part of the group and at the party. I wasn’t sure Beau had even met them, but they were close with everyone else and brought presents, smiles, and a box of beer.
A couple of mothers and their children I’d met at the park came with them. Again, they abided by the rules that Beau barked at them. Then Gladys arrived, since Clara and I had invited her during one of our many visits next door.
Beau had looked appropriately shocked, having only expected about half of the number of people present. He hadn’t known about the moms and kids from the park, Gladys, nor the entire extended Jupiter Crew and their spawn. From what I could gather, he didn’t mingle with them often. Calliope was such a recent addition to the crew—she didn’t even let Elliot call himself her boyfriend—but she seemed at ease with everyone.
And Elliot was friendly, easy to like, and charismatic.
Beau, not so much. He stayed by the grill, clutching the beer offered to him by Tina, the two of them seeming to hit it off. I observed him chatting with the men too, speaking to them in short, clipped sentences. I knew this because I watched him like a hawk, waiting for him to look at me.
He didn’t.
He often watched Clara, always checking to see where she was, what she was doing. Most likely ensuring her mask was still in place and that she was keeping her distance from children. He’d periodically get that look in his eye, the one I received in the kitchen last night, stopping whatever he was doing to go kiss her head, whispering in her ear before going back to the grill.
But me… it was like I didn’t even exist to him.
I wasn’t quite sure what my role was at the party. Technically, it was my day off, which usually happened on weekdays since the weekends were when Beau worked the most. He’d already informed me that I was “invited” to the party, but if I didn’t want to be there, I didn’t have to be.
I’d gaped at him and told him there was nowhere else in the world I’d rather be. He’d gotten a strange look on his face, nodded curtly, then walked away.
Even though it wasn’t my “job” to watch over Clara during the party, I did often. Not that she needed much watching. She was playing in the bounce house Beau had erected earlier. Or at the potion-making station. Originally, I’d put together a makeshift one, then Beau actually constructed one for her. There were rose petals, glitter water, all sorts of things. A flower-crown making station too. All things I offered my supervision with, helping little hands create crowns, fastening stoppers on glass bottles, and drying tears when things were spilled or stubborn toddlers couldn’t figure out things on their own. I stayed near the children because it was more comforting there, I knew what to do, where I was needed. And I was the nanny, after all. That was my connection to the large group of people.
Most of all, kids didn’t require stilted small talk, kids didn’t judge, didn’t understand social hierarchies.
“Here,” a voice said, thrusting a champagne glass at me.
I had no idea where it came from since I was reasonably sure Beau didn’t own champagne glasses.
It was held between Calliope’s well-manicured fingers, her hand clad in expensive rings, a stack of diamonds on her wrist.
I took it from her, taking in her dark designer sunglasses, red capped-sleeve blouse, impossibly chic jeans and heels that were somehow managing to not sink into the grass.
I suddenly felt self-conscious about the floral slip dress I’d found on extreme sale at Nordstrom Rack, even though it was real silk, one of the nicest things I owned. It draped well over my curves, made me feel pretty and feminine. It was my last chance to wear it before the weather got too cold. A thin cardigan was all I needed in the peak heat of the unseasonably warm day. Clara had already put a flower crown on my head. The only jewelry I wore was the gold locket my grandmother left me.
Aside from the swipes of mascara and pink lip gloss I’d quickly put on this morning, my face was free of makeup. Nothing like Calliope’s flawless face and expertly applied cat eyes. Next to her, I looked like a child playing dress up.
“I shouldn’t.” I motioned to the glass.
“You’ve been dealing with a bunch of five-year-olds all afternoon. And Beau for months. You probably need the whole fucking bottle,” Calliope added with a smirk. “Take the wine, you’re off the clock. You’re of age.”
Calliope had a way of speaking that was authoritative but not harsh. And I wanted her approval desperately. So I took the glass and sipped it. I’d never had champagne before. The bubbles were light, the flavor complex, not too sweet.