Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 95393 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 382(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95393 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 382(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
“Yeah, remember that,” Stone reminds me, “she was his first.” He looks at Ryleigh. “Like, how did this even happen? You’ve known her for what, ten years, and all of a sudden, you are like, I like her.”
“I’ve known her, but I’ve never known her like that. I’ve always known her with Benji,” I say softly, “but now it’s just her and the girls. I don’t know how to explain it. It’s just different.”
“Fuck, man,” Stone says, “I don’t know what to say. The reality is that she’s by herself now.”
“I would never, ever go there if Benji was alive.”
“I know you wouldn’t. Fuck, everyone knows that, and if they don’t, then they don’t really know you at all.” Stone shakes his head. “I think you need to figure out if you can get through the whole Benji at the back of your mind every time something happens.”
“Whatever you do,” Ryleigh advises, “remember there are two girls in the middle of this.”
“And they’re amazing,” I point out, and Ryleigh just smirks at me. “What’s that look?”
“Nothing, it’s just that I think you have your answer,” she says, looking at Stone, who side-eyes her. “Jesus, you aren’t even dead yet, and we are arguing about me moving on.”
I can’t help but laugh. “Okay, I’m going to go and not be in the middle of this,” I tell them. “Thanks for the talk and not being judgmental, asshole,” I direct to Stone, who grabs the phone and hangs up on me.
I turn the lights off and slide down into the bed, turning my head to the side and wondering what it would be like if Koda was mine.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
dakota
“Hello,” I answer my phone at the same time I apply glitter at the corner of Rain’s eye.
“Hey,” Christopher replies. “What time are you guys headed out?” I look over my shoulder at the clock on the stove.
“We should be out by six,” I tell him. “It’s almost five. I have to feed the kids, and then we are going to go. Why?”
“I told the girls I would go with you guys,” he says. “Did you make dinner?”
“I did not,” I admit while I move to the other eye and put some glitter on that one. “I was going to probably order.”
“Okay, I’ll call in a pizza order and pick it up, so it’ll be faster. I’ll be at your place by five thirty. Is that enough time?”
“Should be,” I say, grabbing the crown of fake flowers I sewed together for the past month for Rain’s costume.
“See you then.” He disconnects. The past two weeks have been, I don’t even know what word can describe it. I started working at Zara’s Closet last week and love every second of it. I didn’t think it would be an easy transition, and I expected to feel overwhelmed, but in the end, I felt like this was what I needed. It was so good to get out of the same routine I was doing, day in and day out. I felt accomplished at the end of the day. I start after ten in the morning, so I still have time to go to therapy and my support group. Some nights, I’ll work on a couple of things, but I’m not overextending myself.
The other thing that has been a constant is the phone calls with Christopher. Usually, it starts with a good morning text, and he asks about the kids. But then at night, when he knows they are in bed, he calls me to shoot the shit, like he says. We have nothing in common; he likes one thing, and I’m on the other side. The only thing we have in common is we both think we are hilarious. Me more so than him. Even though I’ll never admit it to him, he’s pretty snarky. It’s the nighttime phone calls that I’ve come to look forward to. Although, when he’s on the road, the phone calls happen at three, right before I pick up the girls. But it’s an everyday thing, and I’m trying not to overthink it. Except all I do is think about it.
I pin the crown of flowers on her head and then show her what she looks like in the mirror. She gasps, “I look like a fairy.” She moves her head from left to right, swinging the little ringlet curls we started on as soon as she got home from school. “I’m going to go and get my dress on.”
“No.” I shake my head. “Wait until after dinner so you don’t dirty it.
“Luna,” I call her name, “come and do your hair.” Luckily for me, she wanted to be a cat this year, so all I need to do is tie her hair in a ponytail, put whiskers on her face, and paint her nose pink.