Total pages in book: 183
Estimated words: 174715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 874(@200wpm)___ 699(@250wpm)___ 582(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 174715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 874(@200wpm)___ 699(@250wpm)___ 582(@300wpm)
Her gaze jerks to mine. “Your father made mistakes,” she says. “But those mistakes tore him up. He died before he could fix them, but he would have fixed them.”
“You’re still blind where he’s concerned.”
“I’m not blind at all, but I think this past year has clouded your vision. He was good to us and there was not a day of my life with him that I felt alone or unloved. If you’re objective, there was not a day in your life you felt unloved either.”
“Love doesn’t look like what he did to us.”
“Love is flawed and fragile and beautiful and untouchable. Love looked just like your father. So yes. I will judge Joe, and every other man, by your father. And unless I need someone like I did your father, I will not be with that person.”
“Need is the issue,” I argue, frustrated at her use of that word. “If you need someone, then they control you. They can hurt you.”
“You can’t love someone and not need them, honey, and I hope this hell we have lived hasn’t ruined you for love. I hope one day you understand what I’m telling you. I hate how this has affected you.”
“This isn’t about me.”
“Isn’t it?” she challenges. “You need to start living again. I’m fine now. I even thought about moving next door with Marie Anne just to let you have some freedom.”
I blanch. “You aren’t moving out,” I say. “No. That is not going to happen. We can’t even afford two rents.”
“She has blood sugar issues,” my mother says. “My rent is my ability to help her figure out why she can’t get that problem under control. And she has to, or it will kill her.”
“No,” I say.
“This lets you know I’m near, but you can start living again.”
I glance at the clock on the stove. “I need to go and I hate it, but we’re talking about this, this weekend. I love you.”
“I love you, too, but I’m back. I’m me again. I’ll be okay if you live your life. Go kick butt at that party and let them know Lori Havens is there to make a statement that lasts.”
“I will,” I say. “And you eat your oatmeal and don’t even think about packing.”
I kiss my fingers and hold them out to her and then cross the room. I’ve just grabbed my bag and opened the door when she calls out. “Honey.”
I rotate and look at her. “Yes?”
“I’m glad you are living your dreams. No more regrets, okay?”
The statement punches me in the gut and Cole is immediately in my mind. “No more regrets,” I say, and I exit to the hallway, shut the door, and lean against it. Once again, I think of the moment on the street when I left Cole behind. I think of the moment I’d stepped on the elevator after our night together, when I was sure I would never see him again. And then here is tonight with Cole, and I no longer know what I want to happen. I’m confused and I feel oddly alone. My mother has depended on me for so long that I don’t know how to digest another reality. Lord help me, but I feel like I really need tonight with Cole.
I arrive at Reese and Cat’s apartment where I’m greeted by Cat wearing a robe and a towel on her head. “We have one hour to get ready,” she says. “I left you a selection of dresses on the spare bed and I’ll come check on you soon.” She dashes away, and I follow, both of us darting up the stairs. At the top, Cat darts into the bedroom, while Reese appears in the doorway, still dressed in his sweats.
“Hello, Lori,” he says.
“Hi, Reese,” I say without stopping, darting left toward the spare bedroom I’ve used for a few naps between jobs.
Reese’s low chuckle, a warm and friendly acceptance of how I’ve become a part of their lives, follows me to the spare bedroom I dash inside of, shutting the door with a smile. I love these two. They really have become friends and that feeling of being alone has, for now at least, faded. Of course, they’re also Cole’s friends and I can’t think about where that leads us or how awkward that could get. Not now. Not this night. I eye the dresses on the bed, drawn to the burgundy shade of one of them, but I don’t have time to look now. I dart toward the bathroom.
Once I’ve showered, finished my makeup and flat ironed my hair to a long, silky shine, I pull on black lace-top thigh highs, and a lacy black panty and bra set. Knocking sounds on the door and I pull on a robe. Hurrying forward, I open to door to find Cat, still in a robe, but like me, her hair and makeup are done. “I want you to model the dresses. I’m dying to see how they look.”