Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 89978 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89978 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
She kneels on the floor before me, pulling her hair over one shoulder before resting her hands on my knees. “I’ll go grocery shopping and get you everything you need. It’s the holidays; I think you can take time off work. Whatever you need.”
I cover her hands with mine. “We need to leave Philly. I can’t do this here.”
The lines along her forehead intensify. “You want to move,” she murmurs, eyes glazing over like they did at Scottie’s wedding when I suggested it.
“Move where?” Astrid says.
I glance over my shoulder while she descends the stairs.
“Nowhere. Dad and I were talking about something else,” Amelia stands, brushing off the knees to her gray slacks.
“I don’t want to move.” Astrid wraps her arms around me. “Casey moved last year, and now I only have two friends left.”
Amelia presses her lips together, eyeing me like I’m the bad guy.
“Sometimes people move, and they make new friends, maybe even more friends.” I kiss her hand before pulling her down to sit on my lap. “Life is an adventure. Don’t you think a new adventure would be fun?”
Her lips corkscrew to the side while her nose wrinkles. “I like it here.”
“We’re not going anywhere anytime soon, sweetie.” Amelia rests her hand on Astrid’s head while passing us to climb the stairs. “Let’s get you ready for bed.”
Over the next few days, Amelia hovers, picks at her nails, and suggests I call the doctor. I feel her internal struggle but don’t know how to ease her mind. And I know the doctor will not give her the news she wants.
Despite my efforts to take care of myself, I can’t meditate. My mind won’t settle. Six inches of snow make it impossible to walk in the grass. And Astrid’s activities are in overdrive instead of slowing down for the holidays. The hustle and bustle of life isn’t ideal for healing cancer.
Three weeks before Christmas, I get a video call from Koen while we eat dinner.
“Christmas came early,” he says, giving me a toothy grin before flipping the camera to Scottie sitting in a rocking chair with a baby pressed to her chest sleeping.
“Did she have the baby?” Amelia stands bent over behind me. “Oh my goodness,” she draws out the words in a half squeal. “How precious.”
“Congratulations,” I smile because I couldn’t be happier for her. “Did you name him Price or Henry?”
Scottie kisses the baby’s head and grins. “We named her Penelope Ann Sikes.”
Amelia squeezes my arm, a silent reminder that I suggested we have another baby; that was also when I suggested we move as far away from modern civilization as possible.
“How’s the house coming along?” I ask, noticing a plastic wall in the background.
Scottie eyes Koen, and he quickly flips the camera around to himself again. “Let’s not talk about that. My brother met someone and knocked her up, so—”
“Got her pregnant,” Scottie corrects.
“That’s what I said, darling. I’m going to give Price a tour. You just keep being amazing.” He blows her a kiss while walking toward the plastic. “She got a little high maintenance,” he whispers, sliding through a slit in the plastic wall, “during the last month. I thought she was going to kill me. I’m talking about a version of Scottie I never knew existed. I haven’t picked up a hammer in the past month.”
“Hormones. Settle into that, buddy.”
Amelia sits back in her chair, giving me the stink eye while taking a bite of salmon.
Koen nods slowly. “For sure. But I’m close to finishing. If my brother can give me a hand with the rest of the cabinets in the closets, I bet I can have everything done by February. How are your holidays going? Are you feeling good? Scottie’s been dying for an update, but she knows you’re probably sick of people asking you that.” He moves the camera around to show me the turquoise tile shower and marbled vanity, before moving into the closet that needs cabinets and has a temporary closet rod with clothes against one wall.
Amelia squeezes my shoulder before slinking back into her chair at Koen’s request for a health update.
I shrug. “I’m alive.”
Koen chuckles. “That’s good to hear.” He backtracks, bringing Scottie into the picture again. “Price is alive.”
Scottie eyes me, but she doesn’t smile. And I draw in a deep breath to keep my fake smile inflated.
She clears her throat and rubs Penelope’s back. “You’re looking a little thin.”
Is she saying that for my benefit or Amelia’s?
When I don’t respond, Scottie follows up with a pleasant smile. “What does Astrid want for Christmas?”
“An electric scooter,” Astrid says over a mouthful of green beans.
“And by electric scooter, she means Legos.” I wink at Astrid.
“Noooo …” Astrid giggles. “Not Legos.”
“Well, there you have it. Legos. What does Penelope want for Christmas?”
Scottie chuckles. “Nothing. That’s just a sign of good parenting—raising kids who want for nothing. I don’t know what you’re doing wrong, Milloy, but you should try a little harder.”