Warning: THIS BOOK WILL EXPLORE MENTAL HEALTH AND OTHER SERIOUS TOPICS, LIKE HOMOPHOBIA
THIS BOOK IS ALSO LIGHTHEARTED, don't worry!!
Summary: Nick and Charlie are adults now, but their story is far from complete 🍂
A snippet from the book:
"Char...
Ummm this book of mine has so many reads?!?! Wtf 😨 Thank you, omg 🤭💜 I'm glad that people are finding comfort in this work of mine. Honestly, that's such a surreal thought to have though.
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Okay, a fancy tablecloth, check. An equally as boujee placemats that I'll likely never use again, check. Easily chipped dinner plates put perfectly in the center of those placemats, check. A solely decorative salad plate on top of, and in the middle of each dinner plate, check. Soup bowls are placed within the salad plates. Check. (Formality is so stupid. Why can't I just use a cereal bowl? They're the same thing!) Thousands of napkins so that we can contribute to global warming, check. Forks to the left of each plate, beside the stacks of napkins for each dinner set. Check. (Who decided that we need a fork for dessert and a fork for dinner? This hurts my head.) A knife to the right of each plate, and then a spoon beside that knife. Check! A water glass that I'll likely break while cleaning it later, directly above each of the knives, check. And finally, an expensive wine glass for wine or any other beverage of the guest's choosing. Che- wait. I'm missing one.
Anxiously whipping around, I make my way toward our kitchen, ready to look for the missing one. So, why am I stressing over something that's painfully formal? And let's face it, unnecessary. Well, it's simple. For New Year's Eve, Nick and I are hosting a dinner party. That's right, the traditional Spring-Nelson family dinner is going to be held at our house, hosted by us. Everything has to be perfect. Did I go out of my way to buy all of the dinnerware? Yes, yes I did. Our home needs to look like a place where adults live, not an IKEA, or a college dorm.
The only calming part about this dinner is the fact that David wasn't invited, (understandably so), so this night should go swimmingly as long as I don't somehow fuck up. Oh- yeah, Nick's dad also wasn't invited. If he was invited, but couldn't attend, or chose not to thanks to other dumb priorities, Nick would be crushed. So, my fiancé and I decided that it was best to spare him the pain, on what's after all, supposed to be a good night.
Peering at me through his eyelashes, Nick swishes around beer in a glass. The missing wine glass. Breathing a sigh of relief I check off that part of the lengthy list I created. Next, I need to vacuum away all of Lily's fur that's lingering on our couches, rugs, carpets, blankets, and pillows. Leaning against the kitchen island, the sun highlights the freckles on Nick's face. He looks like he's waiting to say something. "What?" We lock eyes, my hair pointing in different directions since I've been running around all morning. His sun-kissed locks are tidy, flawless even. This morning he had thrown me off schedule by showing up downstairs in nothing but a towel, dripping wet, looking tired yet seductive. Since then I've been trying to get back on track. I'm in a time crunch.
"Nothing," He takes a sip from the warm glass of alcohol in his hand, effortlessly looking sexy, "I just think that I know what my New Year's resolution is going to be." Moving towards the closet, I'm listening. I simply hum, indicating to him to go on as I grab ahold of the vacuum. God, I feel like my mom. Around the holidays she was always quite the clean freak, it always stressed me out. And now I'm stressing myself out. "Char, look at me." He softly says whilst setting his cup down. I automatically turn around to look at him, allowing the vacuum to lean against the wall behind me, "I'm listening."
