Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 60530 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 303(@200wpm)___ 242(@250wpm)___ 202(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60530 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 303(@200wpm)___ 242(@250wpm)___ 202(@300wpm)
Cat noises interrupt our conversation and for a moment I forget what I said and what I asked. Oh yeah, my unhealthy caffeine addiction.
“’Cause my heart is all pitter-patter,” I answer and then add, “Either that or it’s all emotionally exhausting.” My cheeks puff up as I blow out a sigh.
Bridget runs off with Kitty, her hair now in a simple ponytail thanks to Renee. It sways left and right as she hides away behind the sofa.
“Well, it makes sense that you’re nervous,” Renee tells me as I stack the cupcakes on the tiered tray I got forever ago but have only used once.
The pale pink doesn’t match anything else, but it went perfectly with Bridget’s birthday decorations back then.
“Nervous is an understatement.” I can barely think straight. “I’m surprised I didn’t burn the toast.”
“Just think of it as … a boyfriend meeting her.”
“That doesn’t really help.” I speak the words slowly, not sure how to explain the bundle of nerves running through me. “She’s never met anyone I’ve dated.”
“’Cause you’ve never really seen anyone,” Renee adds and I bite my inner cheek rather than correcting her and reminding her of Robert. He doesn’t count. He’s always been here and I didn’t have to introduce him. Just thinking of him forces my hands to go cold and I shake them out. There’s a war brewing inside of me and … well, I’m a mess because of it.
“Mommy,” Bridget cries out, rushing back into the kitchen. “Kitty,” she says, explaining the situation with a single word and motioning to the bump of hair that’s come loose from her ponytail. The plush animal is held in one hand, with a toy mirror in the other.
“Did Kitty do that?” Renee asks her and is met with a curt nod. Renee’s grin is comical and it takes everything in me not to laugh when Bridget glances up at me. I bend down to fix it for her.
“Is that better?” I give Bridget a kiss on her cheek as she looks into her Snow White mirror. “Love it,” she squeals and claps her hands before racing off.
“I mean, who could possibly not love that little princess?”
Bridget is literally dressed in a princess gown, complete with fake plastic heels. All her choice, and who am I to object?
“It’s not about him loving her … or her liking him. I don’t know.” Shaking my head, I note how many times I’ve tried to gather my thoughts. “It just feels so permanent and like I can’t go back.”
I’m scared. That’s the raw truth of it. All of this is new, and so much is out of my control, with more than I care for at stake. Pulling my own hair back, I take in a steadying breath and let the cool air from the open window hit my nape.
“You look tired.” Sympathy clings to Renee’s comment. Ever since the unfortunate gathering today, Renee’s been glued to my side. She may have enjoyed the uncomfortable moment when she first saw Brody and Robert with me at the gallery, but the moment they were gone, I broke down.
It’s not a joke or something to laugh at. It feels like my life is being ripped up into tiny pieces and glued back together in some other order and I don’t have control over it. It’s stressful and I’m stressed.
“You think more concealer will help?” I half kid, although I’m also serious.
“Nah,” she says then shakes her head and catches a stray ball that flies into the room. I plaster a smile on my face in response to my daughter’s shriek of delight from the catch. “Thought you could pull a fast one, huh?” Renee stands up, pushing back the barstool at the kitchen island and it drags across the floor. Bridget’s pulling out her toys in the living room. It was spotless ten minutes ago.
If I cleaned it all up now, I’d just have to clean it all up again in ten minutes. While Renee plays with Bridget, I check on dinner and then glance at the clock again. I swear I look at that digital clock on the oven every five minutes on the dot. It’s almost five thirty, the time he said he’d be here.
Well, he and Griffin. Thank goodness for Renee for thinking of that.
When Renee comes back in, I bombard her with the question that keeps rolling around in the back of my head. “You sure I shouldn’t have waited?”
“He’s just a friend coming over for dinner,” Renee reminds me for at least the fourth time since we’ve been home.
“Right, just a friend.” Wiping my sweaty palms down the sides of my navy dress, I do everything I can to calm down, but the ring at the doorbell halts any progress.
“I’ll get it,” Renee offers, practically standing up the second she sits down, but I stop her.