Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 84401 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84401 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
A couple of years ago, I wouldn’t have had a clue what fly-half meant, but Fiona had been dating Connor for almost two years now and had tried to explain the rules of the game to me on occasion. I still didn’t understand them, but I remembered a few terms. “So he’s like a quarterback.”
“Yeah,” Fiona said.
I wasn’t into sports. I didn’t even grasp football. Why would I bother understanding rugby? “What am I supposed to do for him? I have no clue about sports.”
“You don’t have to. Xavier needs an assistant. A babysitter, really. You know how to take care of people, and you won’t let him boss you around or blow candy up his ass. Those are perfect qualifications.”
I wasn’t sure how my bachelor’s in marketing would come in handy for that, but I supposed a guy like that needed someone for public relations as well. “Did you talk to him about me?”
“Connor is his best friend, and we told him we might know someone who could take over from his last assistant. But you need to come over as soon as possible. Next week. Xavier can’t go without an assistant for long.”
The guy sounded like a major pain in the ass, but after today’s miserable job interview, I actually didn’t loathe the idea of trying my hand at being someone’s personal assistant. It was less hassle than working in a marketing firm or a company. I’d only have to make sure one person looked good in public. That could be a good start for my career.
“Come on, Evie. Do it for me. You’ll love it here. Australia is amazing.” She gave me the duck face that had made her get her way in the past. “Or are you worried about Dad?”
Surprisingly, I wasn’t. He’d been trying to get me to move out and get my own life for months now. Perhaps out of guilt, or perhaps because he felt uncomfortable taking his date home as long as I lived under the same roof. It wasn’t as if he didn’t know how to stay busy. Fiona was right. He worked from eight till eight as a litigator and now spent most of his free time with his new girlfriend.
“He doesn’t need me anymore.” I’d only leave for a year. That wasn’t long. And if I was being honest, I wanted a change of scenery, wanted to leave behind the memories that haunted every inch of this house where Mom’s ghost still seemed to breathe down each corner.
Fiona smiled. “So you’re really coming?”
“I am,” I said slowly.
“Do you need me to send you money for the flight?”
“No,” I said quickly. I still had some savings in my account, not much, but it should buy me a ticket to Sydney.
When we ended our Skype call, I really let reality sink in. I was leaving for Australia. To become an assistant to a rugby star I had never heard of and didn’t know anything about.
That would change now, I supposed.
I left my room and went downstairs, following the noise of dishes clanking. Dad stood in the kitchen holding a plate in his hand while he looked down at his phone. Work or his new girlfriend. His frown deepened. Work.
“Hey Dad,” I said, as I walked in and took the plate from him. Then filled it with the lasagna I’d prepared yesterday and popped it into the microwave.
Dad gave me a distracted smile, his gray hair all over the place from running his hand through it. “Evie,” he said. He didn’t ask how my job interview had gone, but I hadn’t expected him to. He’d always been too immersed in his job to pay much attention. That had been Mom’s job. She had been a stay-at-home mom and taken care of Fiona and me while Dad built his career. Even in the beginning of her cancer it had still been that way, but later Dad had stopped working almost altogether to be at her side.
“Hard day?” I asked him as I leaned beside the counter and put a bite of cold lasagna into my mouth while I waited for Dad’s piece to get warm in the microwave.
“This new case is giving me a headache. Large-scale investor who peculated hundreds of millions. It’ll take weeks to read all the folders piling on my desk.” The microwave binged and I handed Dad the plate. He didn’t sit down; instead he started eating, leaning against the counter and reading whatever important email popped up on his screen. If it wasn’t for me, he’d probably eat and sleep in his office. When Mom had still been around, he’d tried to spend more time at home.
Eventually, he noticed my gaze. “When do you leave?”
I blinked. “Leave?” Then it dawned on me. “Fiona already talked to you, didn’t she?” She had always been a meddler and had acted like a pushy older sister, which was ridiculous, considering we were twins, and I was eight minutes older than her.