Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 95350 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95350 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
“Well, I never knew my mom. She left as soon as I was born, and my dad passed away when I was thirteen. That’s when my grandparents took over.”
“I’m sorry.” The words were useless, but they were all I could manage because my chest hurt too much. Imagining Austin having lost so much formed a physical ache—like a vise around my heart.
“Don’t be. I mean, look at me. I’m kind of awesome,” he joked.
God bless the relationship we created with banter and joking our way through anything serious. It made every conflict or tough subject easy to find our way out of. Almost every situation. I wasn’t sure how we’d find our way out of this marriage.
But that was future me problems, and now that Ethel wasn’t there tearing down my denial, I could start putting it back together. Starting with latching on to his olive branch.
“I guess you’re not too shabby.”
“Not too shabby?” he scoffed. “Did you miss the story about how I was star bagger at the local grocery eight months in a row?”
“If only it was nine.”
“And my basketball awards?”
I barked a laugh. “You mean the best effort one they gave you because you sucked?”
“Hey, I was there to make everyone else look better.”
“So noble.”
He shrugged. “Like I said, I’m awesome.”
“Fine. I guess you’re okay.” He thrust his fist in the air. “Now, take me to bed. I’m exhausted.”
“Gladly.”
While he got ready in the small hall bath, I took my time inspecting each picture and poster in his room. Each one revealed a little more about him. Each one shone a light on how little I knew.
I soothed myself with the small things I found that confirmed I at least knew some things. A poster of his favorite band, Nirvana. His walls painted his favorite shade of blue. A geometric shape rendition of the ocean—his favorite place to be.
But it was a hollow effort at best. I had no idea he was Valedictorian or that he apparently won a spelling bee, or that he very obviously went through a horrifying phase of wearing pants that were so wide they looked like they housed a circus.
Okay, that I could have gone on not knowing.
How about how much he values the commitment of marriage?
I really wanted to block that one out, but it kept rearing its ugly head, no matter how much I shoved it back.
“Find anything good?”
I whirled around from studying his desk and almost started drooling immediately over his bare chest. Reminding myself his grandparents were right down the hall, I forced my eyes up from mapping each ridge of his abdomen. “Just your porn collection.”
He laughed, pulling the covers back for us both.
“Star Wars?” I asked, studying the characters all over the sheets.
“Oh, yeah. I totally wanted to be Han Solo when I grew up.”
I laughed, climbing in beside him. He turned off the light and laid back, mashed right up against me since we were in a bed barely bigger than a twin. In the dark, with the sounds of the outdoors creeping through the cracked window, my mind whirred with the bombardment of new information about the man next to me.
His breathing evened out, and I assumed he was asleep until his pinky reached out to stroke along mine. I smiled at the contact and shifted my finger to link with his. With the simple touch and the shadows all around us, it was easier to be serious—easier to talk about my guilt.
“I’m sorry I’m not a better friend.”
“What do you mean? You’re a great friend.”
A lump grew in my throat, and I struggled to swallow past it. “I never knew any of these things about you.”
“Rae…” Somehow, he managed to soothe me with just my name from his lips. He always had.
“Maybe I am selfish, and that’s why I never knew you liked Star Wars or that—” I choked off the words, not quite ready to face how I never knew about his marriage beliefs. Instead, I said, “Or that you were a spelling bee champion?”
He huffed a laugh, rolling to his side to face me. “Rae, you know who I am. Maybe not the ins and outs of my past and my forte for spelling at the age of eight,” he joked. “But you know me as a person. You make me happy. You make me laugh more than I thought was humanly possible. You’re kind and go to art shows even though you find them pretentious—but you go anyway for me.”
Each compliment sank deep into my bones, somehow loosening the band while tightening another one. It eased the lump blocking my throat while forming a second. A single tear slid down my temple, and I quickly swiped it away. How I got so lucky to have Austin Caldwell as my friend, I’d never know. I just desperately hoped I never lost him because of all I didn’t know about him.