The Last Hour (Thompson Sisters) Sheehan-Miles, Charles (good beach reads .txt) 📖

Ray. I hadn’t realized that Nikki had her sights set on Jose, but the Monday morning after our date, I’d come in to the office and found the printed draft of my dissertation, along with several thumb drives, missing. Of course, there was nothing I could take to anyone and complain, no proof that Nikki had done it, and luckily I kept the original on my laptop. But after that, I’d become much more careful about leaving anything in the office.

He sighed. “She just wasn’t ready. One thing I’ve seen over and over again in life: people consistently overrate their own competence. That’s one of the reasons she’s always disliked you. You’re brilliant, and you’re headed to a brilliant career as a scientist. She doesn’t understand why she always falls short, and instead of looking at herself, she blames other people. Me. You. I tried to warn her that her dissertation needed a lot more work, several times, in fact.”

“She must be devastated.”

“I’m surprised you’re so concerned,” he said. “The two of you have never gotten along.”

I shrugged. “Nikki’s a spiteful bitch and always has been. But I don’t wish bad for anyone.”

He sighed. “You’re a good person, Carrie, you know that. Some day you’ll make some man very happy.”

“I’m hoping it’s going to be Ray.”

“Your soldier?”

I nodded, a half smile on my face.

“You love him?”

“Yes.” My smile grew bigger, and I said, “Yes, I do.”

“I’m glad,” he replied. “Grab what happiness you can, while you can.”

“I hope you and your wife are able to patch things up,” I said.

“Perhaps you’re right. Maybe I should catch a flight to London to see her. And see if we can settle some things.”

“You should give it a try,” I said. “Not everybody gets a second chance.”

He smiled, and I stood and said, “I should get going. I still have a few more things to do before I head to the airport.”

He stood as well, and walked me to the door.

“You take care of yourself, Bill. I’ll always be grateful for what an incredible mentor you’ve been.”

“You too,” he said quietly.

We stood awkwardly in the door for a second, unsure whether to shake hands or wave or what. Finally I reached out my hands and pulled him into a long, close hug. “Thank you again,” I whispered.

He squeezed me tighter for just a second and kissed me on the cheek, then let go. And I turned and walked away.

Halfway down the hall, I passed Nikki. She was rummaging in her purse, and gave me a look like murder. I just smiled at her, and kept going, putting it out of my mind.

Would it have made any difference if I’d stopped her then? Said something? Taken her phone and smashed it, smashed the picture of Bill kissing me goodbye? Small moment, missed opportunities, things we don’t see or pay attention to at the time sometimes have a far bigger impact on our lives than we would have ever guessed in advance.

She’s Deep (Carrie)

Four days later, I woke up in my parents townhouse in San Francisco to the sound of a door slamming closed with a loud crash, followed by the thump thump thump of combat boots moving up the stairs to the fourth floor.

I let out a small groan and rolled over, my eyes opening. It was Christmas morning, and I had hoped for a reprieve from the twins’ fighting. But it sounded like things were going to be business as usual. Rubbing the sleep out of my eyes, I thought maybe I’d talk to them, early, and see if they might call a truce. Things were tense enough around here.

For just a second my mind wandered back to the strange, disturbing note I’d found on my Facebook page the night before. Nikki, who I’d friended in an odd moment of charity, posted, “I know what you did to earn your doctorate. Don’t think it won’t catch up with you.” Underneath the text was a photo of Bill and me in an embrace, his lips on my cheek.

I recoiled when I saw the message on my phone, and as soon as I got to my computer, I deleted it and blocked her. For two years I’d put up with her childish and sometimes outlandish accusations. I was done dealing with Nikki.

It was going to be an unusually quiet Christmas in the Thompson home. Julia and her husband had been on a grueling South Asian tour, with the last show scheduled Christmas Eve in Melbourne. They’d elected to take several days off before flying to New York. That in itself wasn’t very unusual, because they’d alternated Christmases for the last decade between San Francisco and Boston. What was unusual was that neither Alexandra nor Andrea were coming home either. Alexandra was getting married to Dylan in a few months and had never met his mother, so they both flew to Atlanta to spend Christmas there, a decision which likely sent my mother into an anxiety-driven fit. And Andrea? Well ... she hadn’t been home in a couple of years. Which was heartbreaking, because I loved her, and because I had no idea why she left. Alexandra or the twins might—they were much closer with her. But if so, no one was talking.

As a result, this year, instead of a house packed with people, it was going to be very quiet. My parents, the twins, and me.

On second thought, with the twins at war, it might not be quiet at all.

My phone chirped on the bed beside me. I smiled and reached for it. Had to be Ray ... I couldn’t think of anyone else who would call me this early on Christmas morning.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” he said.

“Good morning, beautiful,” I replied.

He let out a low chuckle. “How was your Christmas Eve?” he asked.

“Tense,” I replied. “We went to midnight mass, which wasn’t bad, but before that, Jessica and Sarah were fighting all night.” I didn’t mention Nikki’s posting on my Facebook page. It had