Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 133655 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 668(@200wpm)___ 535(@250wpm)___ 446(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133655 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 668(@200wpm)___ 535(@250wpm)___ 446(@300wpm)
Gunnar’s violin teacher from six years ago dances in the corner with a group of women I’ve never seen before, and the man—boy—who set it all in motion is still missing.
I have three missed calls from Kline Brooks, ten from Georgia Brooks, and I just got a text from Julia that she and whatshisface will be here any minute. Apparently, his car got stuck in traffic on their way uptown.
My ears buzz, and my throat is thick with danger. I don’t know how I’m going to get myself out of this one, and she’s not even coming by herself.
Gunnar is right in one way—this was not a good plan.
I need a new plan. One that has fewer outside factors and more Ace factor. One I’m in complete control of. It’ll be a grand plan. The best plan.
I just don’t know what that is yet or how I’m going to put it into action with all these fucking people inside my parents’ penthouse.
But surely I’ll figure something out. I hope. I pray.
Succumbing slightly to the error of my ways, I head for the kitchen and fill a cup from the kegs that arrived right when Gunnar said they would. I haven’t seen him since he disappeared, but I have seen a blind woman, a stripper with a peg leg, and a man with a fortune-telling goat. I’ve been too busy, you know, freaking the fuck out to let him read me yet, but he seems to be a big hit with all the ladies in attendance.
When the elevator opens and reveals Julia, I set my cup down on the counter, smooth my hands down my shirt, and rush over to her. Crusty McJockface follows her like a poodle on a fucking leash, his big, beefy hand at the small of her back. I see red and blue and green and every other color of the damn rainbow as I try to keep my tongue in my mouth and my brain from exploding.
“Oh my God, Ace. This is…insane. We were downstairs waiting for a turn in the elevator for, like, ten minutes before Drew forced our way into this one.”
My teeth clench. “It’s fucking Ripley’s Believe It or Not in here tonight, Lia. There’s a man with a goat somewhere, and if I’m not mistaken, I saw our middle school principal coming out of the bathroom before. Gunnar invited his entire contact list—including your parents.”
She laughs. “Well, that explains the three screeching voice mails I’ve gotten from my mother and the cryptic text from my father about ‘these damn Kellys.’”
“Did you talk to your dad? Has he talked to my dad?”
“Yes. He just texted me that your parents were in a helicopter after landing in Westchester.”
“Oh God. So, they’ll be here soon.”
“According to my dad, yes. They left the Bahamas earlier today. They thought Gunnar fucking drowned. My dad is the one who told them he was home.”
“My stomach hurts,” I mutter as the meat sweats bubble my guts. I haven’t had any meat—or any other food for that matter since Julia’s date had me all fucking torn up—but it doesn’t matter. I’m one sighting of my dad away from explosive diarrhea. I’m a big dude, but Thatcher Kelly is bigger in all the ways that count. Muscle, sheer determination, number of fucks he’s lost the will to give.
I might as well make peace with God now because I’m pretty sure I’ll be meeting him soon.
“Are you okay?” Julia asks, pushing me toward the couch that’s officially relocated to the wall by the linen closet and sitting me down. “You look clammy.”
As she finishes asking, the elevator doors open again, and a pig with a service vest comes running out. My parents’ pig Philmore, a pet born of a ridiculous prank war between my parents, is in his twenties and aging considerably, but he’s still got some pep in his step. Especially, I suppose, when he’s arriving to a party in his home with all manner of YouTube starlets and TikTok influencers in attendance.
People start cooing and freaking out at his cuteness, but I feel a different sense of doom. His arrival heralds the arrival of my parents.
Julia stands at my side, a hand squeezing steadily at my shoulder as my parents step inside, surveying the scene around them. They’re both wearing sunglasses—even though it’s ten p.m.—so I can’t get a good read on them, but they don’t start screaming right away.
I pat Julia’s hand twice before standing and turning to whisper in her ear. “If I don’t make it back, just know that I loved you.”
She giggles, not taking me seriously at all, which is just fucking perfect, really. Truly, it’s right on par for how this whole damn night has gone anyway.
“Go on, buddy,” she reassures. “It’s going to be fine. This is Thatch and Cassie we’re talking about, not the Kennedys. They’ve seen this before.” Her head whips around as the pirate stripper walks by. “Except maybe that.”