Total pages in book: 149
Estimated words: 138965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 695(@200wpm)___ 556(@250wpm)___ 463(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 695(@200wpm)___ 556(@250wpm)___ 463(@300wpm)
Kicking her feet up on the dash, she straightens her cap and turns to face me as I start the truck. ‘How long have you been dating her?’
Dating. I’m not sure what Hannah and I did the other night qualifies as dating. But for the sake of my daughter’s innocence and setting a good example . . . ‘I don’t know. Like, a week or something.’
‘Are you gonna marry her?’
I pull out of the parking bay with a laugh. ‘Jesus, Cabbage, calm down, will you?’
‘Do you love her?’
‘What?’
‘Is she gonna move into the cabin?’
‘Cabbage—’
‘Are you going to have babies?’
‘No!’
‘Have you kissed her?’
That’s it. I slam my foot on the brake and turn to face her. Good grief, let’s pull this back a bit. ‘We’re dating. That’s it. Just dating.’
Her face twists, unsatisfied. ‘That doesn’t answer my questions.’
‘Your questions are all too premature.’
‘Even the kiss one?’
I nearly choke on my tongue. ‘Especially the kiss one,’ I clarify, not in the least bit sorry for lying. The last thing I need is Alex thinking kissing on a first date is acceptable. Or even in the first year.
‘You’re a bad liar.’ She laughs, quite hysterical. ‘Two plates in the dishwasher, Dad. She stayed over that night I was at Mum’s.’
Snookered. What am I supposed to do with this? ‘We played Monopoly,’ I mumble like a fool, increasing her hysterics.
‘Dad,’ she sighs once she’s got herself under control. ‘Did you forget I grew up?’
She’s something else. ‘You’re ten.’ I pull off up the high street. ‘Last time I checked, that doesn’t make you the fountain of life knowledge.’
‘Last time I checked, thirty-nine doesn’t make you clueless when it comes to women.’
‘I’m not clueless.’ The cheek. ‘What’s gotten into you?’ I ask as we approach the bridge. I wave to Mrs Hatt, but she’s unable to wave back, her hands full of cats.
‘I just don’t want you to screw it up.’
I look across the truck, a little surprised. ‘You don’t?’
‘No.’ Alex shrugs, like it’s nothing. It’s not nothing at all. ‘I like her,’ she admits, not telling me anything I don’t already know, but it still warms me to the bone.
I grin from ear to ear, reaching over to take her hand. ‘Me too, Cabbage.’ Now for something that’s been bothering me . . . ‘Tell me why you told me to hide from your mum.’
She’s quiet for a few moments, as if figuring out how to word it. ‘It wouldn’t be fair.’ Her head resting back against the seat, she looks across to me. ‘Her life is falling apart. Yours is falling into place.’ She squeezes her small hand around mine. ‘I’m happy for you, Dad. I hope it works out.’
I don’t think my daughter has ever said anything that’s meant so much to me, and I love her so much for it.
I smile, the sun breaking through the clouds right on cue.
My life is falling into place. And it will work out.
Chapter 15
HANNAH
I’m aware of my fixed smile for the rest of the day. It only grows as I’m wrapping the framed painting that I’ve sold in bubble wrap. The sale won’t make me rich, it’s just one painting after all – hopefully more soon – but I’m rich on more important things these days. Like peace. And happiness.
I think about Ryan’s daughter as I tape the edges of the parcel paper. She’s a smart girl. I bet nothing gets past her. And she’s so like Ryan, which I conclude is a good thing after meeting her delightful mother. But though Darcy Hampton rubbed me the wrong way, I can’t help but feel sorry for her. I’ve abided women like her before – women who hide behind layers of makeup and designer clothes. Women who exude happiness and confidence, but are empty and lost. I can spot women like that a mile off. After all, I used to be one.
But no matter how deep my internal traumas, I was never mean. I didn’t raise myself up by lowering others. I never wanted to hurt anyone, even though I had very good reasons to hurt. Instead, I ended up hurting people who didn’t deserve to be hurt. The good people suffered. But it was the only way.
Since Ryan left earlier, my smile has been fixed, but it wavers and it angers me. I have something genuine and real to smile about for the first time in many years. Something to build hope on. Is it possible I could build a life here? Could I stay in Hampton?
I ignore the sting in my eyes and the pang of hurt in my gut as I attach the shipping label. Then I close my shop and wander to the post office to send the painting. But before going back home, I head to the shop, deciding I need to celebrate my first sale.