Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 69911 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69911 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Paisley is asleep by the time we get home, so I carry her in and put her straight to bed. She needs a bath, but tomorrow is Sunday and I don’t work until the afternoon. We’ll sleep in, make breakfast, and worry about a bath before I drop her off to Mom.
As I’m climbing into bed, my phone pings on the nightstand. Grabbing it, I see an unknown number.
Unknown: You girls make it home okay?
Easton.
Me: We did. Miss P fell asleep on the way home, and barely moved a muscle when I carried her to bed.
Easton: I had a great time with the two of you. Thank you.
Me: We had fun too.
Easton: I’ll call you tomorrow to set up plans.
Me: I know you’re busy. We don’t expect it. I can handle breaking it to Paisley.
Easton: I never break my promises. Sweet dreams, Ris.
Letting my phone fall to the bed, I close my eyes, and all I see is him. Him with the kids today, him playing with Paisley, them eating pizza and playing arcade games. The way he carried her as if she was precious to him and put her in the car. The way his lips pressed against my forehead. The feel of his hot breath against my skin. I drift off to sleep dreaming of Easton Monroe.
It’s been over a week since I’ve seen her. With away games, practice, and team meetings, I’ve had no time and what time I did have exhaustion set in and my bed was calling my name. This week we have a rare three days in a row without games. I’m hoping out of those three days, I can convince Larissa to go out with me. I know she probably hates to leave Paisley, but I need some time with her. It’s selfish, but it’s fact. Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I send her a text.
Me: Hey, Ris. I was hoping you and I could get together soon.
Larissa: I don’t know. I hate to take another night away from Paisley.
Me: We can bring her if you want.
Larissa: I don’t want to interrupt her routine. She goes to bed early.
Me: Please?
I wait, tapping the screen of my phone every time it starts to dim, watching for the little bubble to appear that tells me she’s responding. Finally, after what feels like a lifetime, the bubble appears and her reply comes through.
Larissa: I’m off tomorrow night.
Me: So it’s a date?
Larissa: I’m not sure. I also need to talk to Mom to see if she can watch P.
Me: We can go early if that helps?
Larissa: A day date?
Me: You can call it anything you want as long as I get to spend some time with you.
Larissa: And P can come too?
She’s a cute kid, and of course she’s welcome, but I want time with her. I don’t say that, because I know as a single mom, her options are limited.
Me: Always.
Larissa: Give me some time. I’m wrapping up some homework now.
Me: You have class today?
Larissa: I take some online classes, but there are a few I can only take on campus. It’s convenient that as long as I log in daily, and submit my work, I’m good to go. Helps that I can do it on days off and after P is in bed.
Me: Nice.
Me: So, I’ll be waiting to hear from you.
Larissa: Give me fifteen minutes.
Me: I’m not going anywhere.
My words have double meaning, and I know Larissa can figure it out. She’s a smart girl. She’s more than just her beauty; she’s the full package—smart, funny, easygoing, and one hell of a mother. That alone tells me that she’s one of the good ones. That and the fact that she couldn’t give a fuck that I’m a major league baseball player. I like that a whole hell of a lot.
Keeping my phone clutched in one hand and the remote in the other, I skim through the channels. Nothing is catching my eye. It’s not the lack of options, but the fact that all I can think about is Larissa and if I’m going to get to see her while I’m home. I check my phone knowing damn good and well that I haven’t missed a call or text, but on the slight chance, I do it anyway.
What has she done to me?
My phone rings, causing me to jump and fumble the phone. When I get a good grip on it again, I look at the screen and see my little sister Pepper’s face. She’s ten years younger than me at fifteen. I debate on answering in case Larissa calls, but decide I better. I always tell her she can call me if she doesn’t want to call Mom and Dad.
“Hey, Pep,” I greet her.
“East, good game yesterday.”
“Thanks.”
“How are you? It seems like forever since I’ve talked to you.”