Total pages in book: 36
Estimated words: 34577 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 173(@200wpm)___ 138(@250wpm)___ 115(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 34577 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 173(@200wpm)___ 138(@250wpm)___ 115(@300wpm)
“Be good,” I reply with a grin before he heads out of my office.
I sag against the desk again and run my hand through my hair. There’s a printout from our administrator waiting, and I give it a quick once-over. It’s still early in the season, early in the new school year, but eligibility problems are already plaguing the team. Not many, but it looks like three are currently teetering on the bubble, and another one is failing chemistry. I drop the paper in my bag, something for me to deal with tomorrow, and grab my stuff. A quick glance at the clock confirms it’s time for me to head out.
I make sure the locker room is empty before turning off the lights and locking the door. The air is thick as I push the doorway and head for the back parking lot.
“Hello, Sebastian,” one of the other math teachers, Mrs. Markley, says before slipping into her car.
“Hey, Claire.” I wave as I make it to my car, setting my bag in the passenger seat.
The drive to my ex-wife’s house is quick. The moment my car is parked, a little brunette with pigtails and a pink tutu flies down the steps and into my waiting arms. “Daddy!” Chloe hollers before pressing a sticky kiss to my cheek.
“What have you been eating? Jelly?” I ask, carrying her in my arms and heading inside.
“Jelly wiff peanut butter!” Chloe bellows, a wide toothy grin on her little face.
“And it’s all over my counter,” my ex-wife, Trina, says as we step through the door. “Come here and get your face washed,” she adds as she starts to scrub the remnants of a PB&J off the counter.
I set my almost five-year-old down so she can go get cleaned up, and when I run my hand over my short beard, it comes back with something tacky. “I think you got jelly in my beard,” I tell my daughter, who instantly starts to hysterically laugh. “It’s not that funny,” I grumble before throwing her a wink.
“Daddy likes jelly too!” Chloe shouts through her little fits of giggling.
When I turn to look at Trina, she throws me her washcloth, hitting me square in the face. This, of course, causes my little one to laugh even harder, resulting in laughter from her mother and me. “Thanks,” I mumble as I clean off my face.
“You’re welcome,” she replies innocently.
Trina’s dressed in scrubs, her hair pulled back in a tight ponytail, and her bag set on the counter by the door. She works as a nurse three nights a week at the local hospital, caring for those who come into the emergency room. It’s actually where I met her not quite seven years ago. I had slipped on the bleachers at school, twisting my ankle pretty bad. I was afraid it was a break and ended up in the emergency room. Two X-rays and a phone number later, I left with crutches and a smile on my face.
We were able to make it work for a while, but by the time we realized we weren’t right for each other, we had just celebrated our third wedding anniversary and had a three-year-old. I have to say, though, we had probably one of the most amicable divorces known to man. We both realized we wanted different things, neither wanting to hold the other back. Trina is recently engaged to a doctor at the hospital, and I’ve, well, I’ve spent a lot of alone time with my hand.
Sure, I’ve dated, if you can call it that, but I’ve had no luck since my divorce at finding someone who doesn’t mind coming in second to a child or who understands the importance of my job. My schedule from August through October is crazy busy as I spend most days at school and nights at the football field. And when I’m not there, I’m with Chloe so Trina can work. I’m not an easy man to date. The women of Hope, Idaho, have proven that, but I still hold out hope I’ll find the right woman sooner or later.
“Daddy, time to go!” Chloe says and heads over to get her own bag. It’s a pink one with a ballerina and her name embroidered on the front.
“Let’s go, Princess Chloe,” I say, clapping my hands together and reaching for her bag.
“Hey!” Trina bellows, grabbing our daughter’s attention. Chloe takes off running and throws herself into her mom’s embrace. “Love you, baby girl. I’ll see you after preschool.”
Chloe’s with me tonight. I’ll take her to preschool, which fortunately is across the street from the high school, and then Trina will pick her up afterward. It’s not easy, but we make this co-parenting thing work.
“Have fun at ballet!” Trina hollers as we head out the door and to my truck.