Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 47176 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 236(@200wpm)___ 189(@250wpm)___ 157(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 47176 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 236(@200wpm)___ 189(@250wpm)___ 157(@300wpm)
Mom and dad, screaming for their lives, the plane turning downward and…
I have to stop. There’s no way I can change that, control it, or do anything about it. We’re not the only ones who lost everything that day.
“We’re not together anymore,” she sinks back against the chair, closing her eyes. “It’s over.”
“You sound happy about it,” I murmur. “I guess you dumped him?”
“It wasn’t like that. We agreed.”
“But…why?”
Why would she ever not want him?
This is where I really need to calm down before I start yelling at her, but really at myself, screaming that he’s tall and muscular and always in control and how I wish I had his massive firm arms wrapped around me…but she can never know.
“It was fun while it lasted,” Kelly says, snapping her eyes open. “But I don’t want to talk about it, Jen. Is that okay?”
“I....”
I want to tell her not really. She has to give me everything, dish all the terrible dirt on Jamie so I can let him go.
She stands, brushing down her shirt and forcing a smile. “I’m exhausted. I don’t mean to yell at you. I think I’m going to go to bed before I end up trashing the place.”
“Do you want anything?”
“I’m fine.” She walks toward her bedroom, one of two doors on either side of the TV stand. “Thanks, though.”
“Not even some hot cocoa? I got some marshmallows earlier.”
She turns, her smile seeming more genuine now. “If you don’t mind....”
I leap up to my feet. It’s like I think the faster I move, the less guilty I’ll feel. But there’s no way to avoid it.
As I step into the kitchen and make her cocoa, I’m thinking about Jamie. About how he must’ve looked when Kelly agreed to separate.
Was it the age thing?
He’s forty-one, but that only makes me want him more.
It’s the experience in the silver of his hair, the mature look in his eyes, like he’s seen it, done it, and isn’t impressed by anybody’s bullshit.
Like he’d never stop protecting our family.
I curse as I overfill the mug, quickly grabbing the kitchen towel and cleaning up.
One day, I will have to focus as hard as possible. The education of dozens of children will depend on me doing my best, being present, and knowing how to teach them, so they have the tools to create a future for themselves one day.
And I can’t even make hot cocoa without Jamie spilling into my thoughts.
Jamie, the tattoo artist with his studio downtown, is so freakin’ hot, but he was with Kelly until recently.
I turn my wrist, looking at the spot where I want to get a heart tattoo with the words Mom and Dad inside.
It’s so not me, getting a tattoo…that’s Kelly. That’s how she met Jamie to begin with. She’s got a butterfly on her collarbone – not Jamie’s – and a pink dragon around one forearm.
That one’s Jamie’s. Maybe it’s sad how grateful I am that she didn’t have to pull her top down for the one he gave her—just her sleeve.
They were together for two months. Unlike me, Kelly isn’t a big ball of shyness with boys. I just don’t know how to act around them if I sense they want to meet or be with me.
It’s happened a few times, not many, sure, but a few…
And maybe it’s because I never want it, but I don’t know what to do.
Who to be or how to flirt.
It almost feels like I’ve been waiting for the right one.
Waiting for Jamie, for somebody who, when I’m with him, I don’t feel like I’m playing a part. Trying to be the person I think they want, and not even caring enough to try because nobody can compare with Jamie.
Kelly’s ex, the reason I’m even bringing her cocoa.
As I carry it to her room, I glance at my college textbook on the coffee table. Kelly was eighteen when mom and dad died. She handled all the money. She could’ve blown dad’s life insurance and gone on a crazy splurge, but she didn’t.
She saved it for my college.
She worked right out of high school, so I’d have the luxury.
She still hasn’t figured out what she wants to do with her life. But that doesn’t make it any easier.
She might have time if she was in college or had the tuition money to spend elsewhere.
I open the door with my hip, walking over to her bed. “For Her Majesty.”
She laughs, but there’s something flighty in her eyes. It’s like she’s thinking about telling me something…or running as fast as she can.
Laying her mug on her bedside table, I pause for a moment. “Are you sure....”
She looks up, her smile tight and forced. “I don’t want to talk about it. Not yet. Maybe not ever.”
I almost want to remind her of the other breakups. We’d sit up for hours and she’d give me all the details, the juicy ins and outs.