Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 134045 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 670(@200wpm)___ 536(@250wpm)___ 447(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 134045 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 670(@200wpm)___ 536(@250wpm)___ 447(@300wpm)
Someone save me. What did I do here? Especially with Lance just standing there, not saying a frickin’ thing, not walking away to save me any further embarrassment, seemingly not worried about the kid in front of him talking about his junk.
“He has a pee pee,” I whispered at him, though even my yelled whisper was loud enough for Lance to hear.
Nathan’s gaze moved to me. “You told me that boy’s pee pees fall off when they ride motorcycles. Why does Captain still have his?”
Were we seriously talking about Lance’s dick, right in front of him, at seven-thirty in the morning? Yes, yes we were.
I took a long breath, wishing that Lance hadn’t had to be such a hot guy with his motorcycle and muscles and his donuts. “Because he’s a man, not a boy. And we are no longer having this conversation, you are getting your butt in that seat and possibly into some kind of therapy,” I replied, really hoping this was the end of it.
I didn’t dare look at Lance.
“But Mom—”
“In the car, this instant,” I said through clenched teeth, the universal, ‘mom is about to lose her shit’ tone.
Nathan scowled but did as he was asked because he was the best kid in the world. Ah, I loved that little fucker, even when he made me talk about the private parts of the man I was a little bit obsessed with and the man was completely and utterly indifferent to me.
I wanted to scuttle to the car and escape having to clean up my kid’s mess, but I was an adult, and I had to some time, in the immediate future, stop staring at Nathan getting himself into the car and look at those eyes that had seen me pretty much only at my worst. First, when I’d been sweaty and out of my mind at the offices. Then, when I was trying to hold on to my emotions getting my son back.
Then, running on empty handing him Barney sheets and word vomiting all over the place. This morning, staring at his stomach and then standing in the living room in my towel and unable to speak like a human. Now wasn’t much better, the lack of having to make breakfast or coffee gave me extra time, but I needed that extra time in order to cover my angry black eye. And even my most practiced hand wasn’t great, because I’d had to scrape at my concealer. I didn’t usually wear makeup, and my stash was pretty much nonexistent. I hadn’t needed to be constantly stocked up in the heavy-duty stuff as I had when I was still living with Robert.
He liked me with more makeup, to cover my freckles, my imperfections, the bruises he gave me.
I guess it was my rebellion to go fresh-faced now, well, that and I couldn’t afford luxuries like makeup. I survived off skincare samples, cheap cleansers, and really fancy creams that Karen and Eliza got me for my birthday.
So the concealer only kind of worked at hiding the huge bruise on my eye, it was definitely noticeable when you looked up close, and the dark circles under my eyes didn’t fare much better. Though I did dab some almost expired red lipstick underneath them to color correct.
I put on a swipe of mascara, telling myself it wasn’t for the man in my living room I could hear Nathan chattering away to as I got ready.
I only had time to half blow dry my hair, so I quickly braided it and put on my work uniform. I thanked Esther and Logan—the owners of the diner, and mine and Nathan’s family—daily for not having some ugly, polyester, pastel uniform that was unflattering and embarrassing.
It was just simple black pants, high-waisted, good quality, and did things to make my legs look long and my butt look good. Despite most of my curves disappearing, my butt stayed large enough to fill out the pants. The top was a fitted tee with a small logo on the breast. I could get away with wearing it to and from work, even to the grocery store. Heck, it was nicer than most of my clothes.
Today, I knew shitty concealer and black pants that made my ass look good would not save me.
I did not want to make eye contact with Lance right now.
But my life was just a series of doing things I didn’t want to do. So I held my breath and did it anyway.
His expression was exactly the same as it had been when I’d walked into the living room after dressing and trying to give my bruised and exhausted self a pep talk in the mirror. Well, I wasn’t as exhausted as I thought I would be considering that the coffee from Alice’s was even better than my shitty coffee machine stuff. Of course it was. It was coffee for people that had enough disposable income to grab it on their way to work without a thought.