Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 69452 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69452 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
“What about you, Crimson?” I wondered.
We were having our weekly brunch with the whole family, and luckily all I had to do this time was show up.
Next week, it’d be me hosting all of it, though, which included making breakfast for everyone as well as hosting it at my place. Which sucked really bad, seeing as I couldn’t cook, and didn’t like people at my place.
But family like mine didn’t understand boundaries or care about feelings, so we were having it at my place, and I was cooking anyway.
I was really looking forward to it…
“Going to the grocery store, then to the nail salon, followed by the bank to work with that loan dude,” she intonated.
I groaned, her words reminding me about my errand yesterday.
“Speaking of loans,” Val went on. “How did yesterday go?”
“About as horrible as could be expected from our baby sister.” Simi snorted.
I shot her the middle finger, then looked over at Tony.
“So, it goes like this,” I said since she was the only one who didn’t know. “I show up yesterday a couple of hours late, thanks to agreeing to go to a family reunion with Nash—to keep his family off his back about something. He was supposed to take me to the meeting later, but then threw a fit when I asked him why his family was talking about something important coming up on Tuesday for him. Then he dropped me off at home, and I had to bum a ride from Simi. Simi got me there just as the dude was leaving his office, and I had to work magic and sell my future child to him to get him to agree to partner with us.”
After hearing from our financial advisor that we needed more funding, and that it was better to spend someone else’s money than your own, we’d gone in search of sponsors. Tony’s husband, Slone, had put me in the path of Mylo Jordan, a multi-millionaire who was tough as nails and looked at me like I was a leech wanting to suck his blood.
“He’s walking down the road to his car, which is a few blocks over, and Zip’s poor tiny little legs try to keep up with his pissed off long strides. By the time she gets back, she has a smile of relief on her face, and the promise of his PA contacting her today about how to proceed,” Simi said. “She also cried all the way home.”
“What?” Winston asked, looking angry now. “Why?”
I winced. “Nothing he said.”
When I’d gotten into Simi’s car, I’d been too focused on what I was about to do with that sponsor rather than what Nash had said to me as I got out of the car.
But as I’d finished, and I had nothing else to focus on, my brain had zeroed in on what I’d been solidly ignoring since I’d left Nash in that parking garage.
And it’d caught up to me.
Honestly, though, it wasn’t Nash’s words, per se, that had set me off. It was the reminder that I was never good enough for my entire life that had me getting overwhelmed.
I was a crier.
I cried at absolutely anything and everything.
See a stray, sad looking dog? Cry.
Run over a frog? Cry.
See your sister for the first time in weeks? Cry.
Start your period? Cry a lot.
But Nash’s words had opened up an old wound, which only reminded me that I was never going to be good enough for anyone. Not my family. Not my dead dad. And now, not for Nash.
“Would you like to tell us why?” Val asked as she got up.
I shrugged. “I started my period.”
“Oh, yeah. So did I.” Tony groaned. “This sucks.”
Yes, periods definitely sucked.
The only good thing I could say about starting was knowing that I was that much closer to finishing. According to Dr. Google, I only had three hundred periods to go before I hit menopause.
Picking up my plate, I walked it to the trash can and then washed my hands free of syrup.
“So, you’ll get back with us about what we need to do about Mylo Jordan?” Keene asked as he followed in my footsteps.
“I will,” I confirmed. “I’m hoping to hear back from him this morning. Then I’ll text everyone with our next steps.”
It was our hope to bring schools into our facility for field trips and the like, but to do that, we needed to help sponsor them.
As well as sponsoring the children to come during the school day, we also hoped to provide better and bigger shows. Better shows meant more personnel, training the new workers, and creating a place that people would want to visit.
All of that came with a hefty price tag that we were hoping to avoid paying for if we could manage it.
Luckily, Mylo had answered that call.
“Sounds good,” Keene threw his arm around my shoulder. “Walk me out?”