Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 55550 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 278(@200wpm)___ 222(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55550 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 278(@200wpm)___ 222(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
“Who does he belong to?”
“Us,” she says without looking at me.
Instead of arguing with her about how we’re not getting a dog, I put a magnet over the paper and stick it to the refrigerator. My fingers brush the Magnolia Grove school magnet, and my eyes immediately go to Lemon’s photo, name, phone number, and email address. Under all the necessities of how to get a hold of her is a quote or tag line: Your children are my happiness.
Looking at Goldie, I huff. I should take the magnet to Lemon at the next board meeting and ask her if my child really is her happiness because after today, we know that’s not true. As much as I want to push the memories from earlier out of my mind, I can’t. I kissed her and she kissed me back. To me, that’s very telling on how she feels.
She’s jealous of my daughter though.
Jealousy is such a strong emotion and not one easily overcome. Maybe it’s high time I push Lemon Walsh out of my system once and for all. There has been plenty of interest over the years from other women, but my heart has always been tied to Lemon. I wish I could shut that part of me off, to flip the switch and never have to wonder and long for someone who can’t love me back because of my daughter.
Easier said than done.
“You’re quiet,” my mom says, breaking my thoughts.
“Long day,” I tell her. “Thank you for picking this munchkin up from school.” I run my hand down Goldie’s curls and kiss the top of her head.
“I don’t mind,” Mom says. “Have you thought about hiring some help?”
I shake my head, but then nod. “I have delegated more and with Dad’s help things are getting done on time. I just have to let go and trust that the team I have working for me is doing the job to my satisfaction.”
“Well, if they’re not, Ms. Linda will surely let you know.”
My eyes roll automatically at the mention of Ms. Linda’s name. She would surely be the first person to let me know if my business was failing.
While my mom is still at my house, I take a shower and start a load of laundry. The pile seems endless, and it might be because I refuse to wash my dirty clothes with Goldie’s. In fact, I should probably take my stuff to the laundromat with all the crap I get on them daily.
My mom leaves as soon as the timer for the lasagna buzzes with strict instructions on the pie she and Goldie made. While I plate the pasta dish, with a side salad and garlic bread, my daughter has her face almost pressed to the glass on the oven, keeping an eye on the pie.
“Come eat.”
“But the pie.”
“It’s not going anywhere, and I have the timer set.”
“But Grandma said.”
“We’ll sit right here,” I tell her as I set our plates on the island where we usually eat breakfast. For dinner, I like us to sit at the table, even though I’m far from formal. However, growing up, we always ate dinner at the dining room table. Even when my dad had to work late or my mom had a meeting, we were always at the table. It’s where my dad would hold court—his words, not mine—and we’d talk about the goods and bads of the day. It’s something I want to keep doing with Goldie.
I’m also not an ass and know how important pie is, and I know it’s more special when you make it with your grandmother. There’s no way I’m going to let the apple pie burn. I move Goldie’s stool to the other side so she can see the oven and then help her climb onto the seat even though she tells me she’s old enough to do it herself.
As her father, it’s not about her age. It’s how she’s always going to be my little girl. I’m always going to want to help her, and I don’t want to think about a time when she doesn’t need my help.
I cut Goldie’s lasagna before sitting down to eat my dinner. “What else happened at school today?”
After she takes a heaping bite, she gives me a toothy, spaghetti sauce smile. The parent in me wants to remind her to chew with her mouth closed, but the kid in me giggles and then touches her nose because she’s so damn cute.
“I take it you had a good day?”
“I made a friend.”
“What? No way. What’s their name?”
“Rosie but I don’t know her last name. She was my reading partner today and then asked me to play at recess. And we sat together at lunch.”
“Well, that’s fantastic.”
Goldie nods. “She asked me for my phone number, but I don’t have a phone.”