Total pages in book: 23
Estimated words: 22407 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 112(@200wpm)___ 90(@250wpm)___ 75(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 22407 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 112(@200wpm)___ 90(@250wpm)___ 75(@300wpm)
Most of the men in our family have one way or another settled down.
Found love in strange places.
Began their own families, most of which are either on the direct estate property or over in no man’s land like Mom and Clark.
Our impenetrable closeness definitely remains.
And thankfully, since the whole Catalina incident, we haven’t dealt with any high-level threats, allowing the members of our extended family to have lives of their own.
Fuck, even Silas managed to grieve his “loss” and find love with a woman who works for The Frost Luxury Hotel in hospitality.
They’re a match made in concierge heaven.
Plus, who doesn’t love a woman that leaves complimentary “spa sets” – that always include blue mascara – for her behind the front desk of the building she technically owns?
“That’s fine with me, if it’s fine with him,” I state over the continued squabbling of the twins that’s now moved onto which version of The Grinch is the best. “And Park.” An eye-roll is mindlessly executed. “Scottyfuckingforbid, we don’t tell the all mighty Sulu there’s been a small change in the mission plan.”
Lurch’s face twitches a tiny scrunch in confusion. “I don’t know who that is.”
“How have you been a part of this family for this long and still not know who that is?!”
“I’m team Batman.”
“Yeah, well, you look like Bluey in that sweater!” viciously bites Blakely.
“And you look like you’re cosplaying Martha May Whovinay in that dress!” Brae wittily snipes back.
“Now, you’re team stay in the SUV with the bitchy tweens.” A sassy, mirth-filled smirk is followed by me exiting the vehicle. “Good luck in Gotham.”
Lurch groans so loudly he sounds more like his namesake than normal.
I use the unopened door to the plane as an excuse to take my time getting from where we’re parked over to where they’ll be exiting.
Cold air enthusiastically winds itself around my curvy figure, eager to remind me that while it was wise to completely cover my tits – that are only a little fuller than they were pre-kids – it would’ve been wiser to adequately cover my legs too.
But I fucking hate tights.
And leggings.
And pretty much anything that isn’t a wetsuit yet wants to constrict my thighs like it is.
Besides, these white, knee-high boots, I bought with Nae during our extended lunchbreak Christmas shopping adventure deserve to be immediately shown off.
I earned these fucking things.
People think shopping for kids or teens is hard.
Try shopping for mega rich, nerd husbands who can literally buy anything and everything whenever the mood strikes.
Fighting to find funding in my department at The Power and Bowell Institute to deliver small, holiday bonuses to employees that have been with us for over a year was infinitely easier than working with my best friend to buy her husband – aka my other best friend – a good gift.
It took all of my extended lunch for us to find – separate but acceptable – picks.
Nae managed to discover a Highland based live action role playing company – through a series of backroom bookstore whispers – that specializes in custom creating the experiences from your favorite fictional worlds. The gift from her and her boys is a space battle for our entire family – including her brother, his wife, their kids, and extended members like our security teams.
Definitely a “top-cheddar” gift as Jenni – who is now married to Evie – would say.
And as for my crew?
We leaned more into the Kirk style of shit.
Simply passable.
The girls are thankfully still at an age where making him shit is acceptable, so Brae learned to play a song from the movie Star Trek in the Kelvin timeline while Blake made him a custom trivia game – in which I contributed the extra hard questions.
Wy got him another pair of Star Trek themed swim trunks.
And because Wes and I are married, he just gets credit for my awesomeness of ordering a custom, laser engraved, one of kind, lead free crystal, Next Gen decanter with USS Enterprise (NCC-1701-D) on it and matching “Number One” whiskey glasses.
That particular specialty shop was right across from the shoe store that was having a flash sale.
Puppet Boy was second to last on the list of gifts needed unlike his best friend – my husband – whose custom, handmade Gotham city espresso machine for the penthouse I ordered in July.
The only person left on my list is our son, which is why this bonding trip with his dad doubled as a secret mission to get that info.
And it had to be secretly done since every time I flat out asked all I got was a shoulder shrug.
A. Fucking. Shoulder. Shrug.
What the fuck am I supposed to do with that?!
It’s not like I was asking him something insignificant like what was he in the mood for, for dinner.
This was kind of a big deal.