Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 76381 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76381 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
The most surprising part of it all had been the fact that Daphne had reached back out to Allie to help her hatch a plan to make it all work.
A plan that included Allie—sweet, good, well-behaved Allie—pretending to be sick to the point of actually making herself throw up just to get Britney to stay home with her, leaving me alone at the coffee shop.
As horrified as I was to learn they’d done something like that to Britney, I couldn’t help but be happy that our kids were talking again. Even if my kid was being a bit of a bad influence on Allie.
Because I had to be the grown up in the situation, I’d brought Daphne over to Britney and Sam’s house to make her tell them all about their little schemes. Daphne spoke clearly and confidently, her shoulders back, clearly proud of herself. While poor Allie wilted in her seat, looking like she wanted the ground to open up and swallow her whole right then and there.
Luckily for her, Britney and Sam were actually kind of relieved to find out their daughter did have it in her to be a little misbehaved. While Britney loved that her daughter was so reserved and good, Sam had been fretting for many years, worried that if Allie didn’t ever branch out and risk failure or condemnation, that she was never going to find true confidence. Let alone be able to navigate college and adult life without feeling really unsure and anxious.
So, all around, everyone was… happy.
That two teenaged girls fucked with our lives.
Yeah, it was a weird situation.
But, hey, for whatever reason, the whole situation meant that Daphne was a lot less prickly and not actively trying to screw up again.
I hadn’t even heard her mention Tammy in days. Sure, kids had their whole own secret worlds that not even the most helicopter parent could truly know the ins and outs of, and there was a very good chance that the older girl was still an influence on my daughter’s life, but at least she wasn’t sneaking out to go hang out with her. Doing God-knows what. While I sat at work or home oblivious.
The only real downfall since the night at She’s Bean Around was the fact that Callow hadn’t texted or called. That he clearly didn’t seem as affected by the whole situation as I’d been.
I didn’t even just mean that kiss. But, holy hell, that kiss.
I used to think that it was a figment of singers’, writers’, and poets’ imaginations that you could feel a kiss down to your toes. Until Callow.
I’d been so far gone that if he’d started to strip me bare right there on the street, I might have actually let him.
That exact scenario had been the new dream that woke me up in the middle of the night sweaty in tangled sheets, the need an acute sort of ache in my core.
Yet it wasn’t just that.
It was the conversation. It was the way some of my questions caught him off guard, made him really sit back and think before giving me an answer. Like he was learning something about himself as he was telling me about himself.
It was the most connected I’d felt with someone in a really long time. And possibly the only time I’d ever felt that in tune with a man.
But my phone had been silent since the date. Save for the endless emails announcing sales on websites I did not need to be checking out, but was also much more likely to thanks to the disappointment hanging like a personal storm cloud over my head.
Needless to say, I had a new pair of shoes and a really cozy cardigan on the way to me. And a pretty sweater for Daphne because it was impossible for me to spend money on myself and not her.
“Oh, hey Allie,” I said as I pulled open the door, expecting some sort of delivery only to see the pretty, petite blonde with her familiar brown eyes and her ever-present backpack slung over one shoulder.
“Hey, Sabrina,” she said, giving me that unsure smile of hers.
“Is Daphne expecting you?” I asked as I moved aside to let her move in.
“Yeah. I’m going to help her with an extra credit project,” she told me.
“That’s news to me,” I said, turning to see Daphne moving down the hallway with her hair slicked back from her head with some sort of oil soaking in and three colored acne stars stuck on various spots on her skin. “Are you having trouble in one of your classes?” I asked.
“No,” she said with the casualness that told me she wasn’t trying to pull one over on me. “We had a choice of three essays to write if we wanted extra credit.”
And as much as she wouldn’t admit it aloud, my daughter loved her English classes. Especially when it allowed her to write something herself. I sincerely hoped that in a few years, there would still be jobs available in journalism or something like that because it would be a job she’d not only excel at, but would love.