Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 109505 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 438(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109505 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 438(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
“You cooked it already?” Bailey’s hand comes up, tapping against Meyer’s chin.
“I did.”
Her smile softens, but she kisses Bailey’s forehead to hide it. “I like a lot of spice.” She tells me as she walks away.
Tell me fucking more ...
I squeeze my eyes shut and give my head a little shake.
Not the time.
Serving us up a heavy plate, I step from the kitchen into the living room.
I didn’t allow myself a look at her place before, but this time I peek around.
The space is small, just big enough for a loveseat and TV stand, but there’s a few doors on the left wall that must be bedrooms of some sort since there’s no bed or crib in here. She’s got a little play mat set up on the carpet in front of the couch, little toys hanging from the bendy things on top of it and that’s it. It’s clean and neat and she’s done with it what she’s able.
“Do you mind eating out here?” Meyer asks.
There was no table or even room for one in the kitchen, and I’m betting she doesn’t want to call attention to that by us taking a seat inside, not that I’d argue against eating outdoors.
I prefer the sun any day, so I tell her that, dropping into the free chair at her side, Bailey propped up on her bent knees.
She thanks me and we eat in silence for a few minutes. “You cooked at home to give me time with her.”
I drop my grin to my bowl, taking another bite.
It’s true.
When I got home, I changed into some sweats and a sleeveless, grabbed everything I needed, but only twelve minutes had passed, so yeah. I decided to cook there instead to kill time in case she needed it.
The baby makes a gurgling sound and Meyer gives her a big, cheesy smile; her fork held halfway to her mouth. She turns to me mid-chew. “You said your mom made the sauce?”
I nod. “She’s a hell of a cook.”
“I was going to say, this is really good.” She takes another bite. “Are you ... is this where you’re from or does she mail you things?”
I clear my throat, glancing up at the fading sun. “Nah, I’m from San Luis Obispo, a good four hours away. I’ve only been home a couple times since freshman year, but when I do, I never come back empty-handed.”
“That’s sweet.”
“Yeah.” My limbs tighten, but I stretch through it and turn the conversation to her. “How about you? Where you from?”
“Uh.” She looks away. “Here originally, but I was raised in a little dirt town in Nevada. The kind where everyone knows everyone, and nobody gets out.”
My bowl cleared, I set it down and lean back in the chair. “Looks like you did.”
A sense of sorrow washes over her and she looks to Bailey, who bites on her little fingers in her lap. “It doesn’t count until real life begins.”
“Real life,” I repeat, leaning forward to gain the baby’s attention. Her blue eyes meet mine and her arms lift, all to slap back onto Meyer’s legs. I chuckle, tapping my fingertips on her belly and earning another little grin.
“I think she’s as real as it gets, Tutor Girl.”
Meyer and I look at each other.
Her eyes move between mine, but she quickly drops them to her daughter, so I shift the subject.
“Bianca, she helps you out a lot?”
“God yes.” She nods. “The child development center does have a day care I take her to when I’m tutoring, which is amazing. The program here is one of the best in the area, so I guess I lucked out there, but they close at six. After hours is when Bianca comes over and stays with her. I’d be screwed without her.” A soft cry leaves Bailey and so Meyer lifts her, laying her across her shoulder.
I watch as she gently begins to pat her back, rubbing small circles after every few taps.
“So ... no other family around to help out or ...”
Meyer’s hand freezes mid-pat, her body tensing slightly, but slowly, she eases once more.
Her eyes move to mine and I know she knows what I was thinking.
Does her baby girl have a man in her life, a father? Someone else who loves and lives for her like her mother does?
I want to know.
“I have a brother,” is what she whispers.
It takes effort not to frown, but I manage to hold it back.
“A brother.” I nod, lifting a brow. “Now the batting makes sense.”
A nervous chuckle escapes her. “Yeah, he plays for a smaller school a few hours away, but just for fun. He tries to help, but I don’t let him. He’s in school too, and that’s what he needs to focus on. He’d kill me if he heard me say that, though.” She laughs again. “You said you have a brother?”