Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 82715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
The day had been such a roller coaster of emotions I felt like I was going to get whiplash. Fear, anxiety, nostalgia, sexual tension and release, anxiety again, it was all too much. I’d felt calm, almost relaxed, at his parents’ house, sitting in the living room with Heather, Michael, and Rhett. But before and after that, I’d felt like I was going to come out of my skin. Nothing was helping.
Michael had been my safe place and sounding board my entire childhood, but he wasn’t anymore. I hated that I could no longer read him. It was like all of the youthful exuberance he’d had when we were younger had completely disappeared. He was calm, almost unnaturally so, all the time. Even when I knew he should be angry and frustrated—those would be normal reactions—he didn’t show any of that. He was both a stranger and someone I knew on a cellular level. It was confusing and exhausting trying to figure it all out.
“I’m sure we’ll have a good time at your grandparents’,” I said, walking the uneaten food to the trash. “I’m going to go upstairs and change.”
“Emilia,” he called as I walked toward the stairs. “What the hell?”
“What?” I turned to look at him.
“You just made that and threw it away?” he asked, coming toward me.
“I guess I wasn’t that hungry.”
“Bullshit,” he replied. “What the hell is going on?”
“I really want to get out of these damp clothes,” I said, pulling at the neck of my sweatshirt.
“This why you’re so skinny?” he asked, coming closer. “You just don’t eat?”
“I eat.”
“Really? ’Cause you’ve barely touched your food since you got here.”
“I ate at your parents’ house last night.”
“Barely.”
“Are we really arguing about what I eat?” I asked in frustration. “Because this is ridiculous.”
“Fine,” he said, raising his hands in surrender. “Eat or don’t eat. Do what you want.”
“I’m going to change and lie down with Rhett,” I replied tiredly. “We’ll be down in plenty of time to go to your grandparents’.”
“Sounds good,” he said over his shoulder as he walked away.
As I dragged myself up the stairs, exhaustion hit me like a freight train. It had been such an intense couple of days it felt like I hadn’t had even a minute to relax. Every muscle in my body was tight with tension, my mind always racing a million miles per hour.
Instead of just changing my clothes, I opted for a shower in Michael’s fancy guest bathroom. The hot water felt fantastic on my sore muscles, and I finally felt warm after our little interlude in the rain. Within fifteen minutes, I was curled up next to Rhett, completely passed out.
“Mama, dinner,” Rhett whispered, his lips so close to my ear that I could feel the tickle of his breath.
I shuddered and moved my head away, but that didn’t stop him from tap-tap-tapping on my shoulder.
“Mama, dinner!”
“I’m awake,” I assured him, opening my eyes. I sat up, and Rhett’s eyes widened.
“Mama’s hair,” he said, wrinkling his nose as he sat back on his heels. He lifted his hands until they were level with his ears and about a foot away from his head. “Whoa.”
“Crazy, huh?” I cackled. My hair flowed around my head like a cloud, and Rhett laughed himself silly as I shook it from side to side. “I think it’s marvelous.”
“Brush hair, Mama.” He giggled.
“I think I’ll leave it how it is, actually,” I teased, dramatically tilting my head to the side so my hair flopped around again.
“Looks good to me,” Michael said from the doorway.
I screeched in surprise and threw myself back against the pillow, pulling the blankets over my head. Rhett laughed so hard he fell over.
“Did you know he was there?” I asked him, sliding my arm out from under the blankets to poke him in the belly. “Traitor!”
“I caught him in the doorway a little while ago,” Michael said, his voice laced with amusement. “We should probably grab a baby gate for the top of the stairs.”
I groaned and threw back the blankets. “Yeah, that’s a good idea.”
“Mama?” Rhett asked tentatively. “Brush hair?”
“Yes, I’ll brush my hair,” I said, pulling him down for a hug. “Give me twenty minutes, and I’ll be the gorgeous mother you know and love.”
“My best friend,” he replied seriously, drawing his head back to look at me.
“You’re my best friend.” Setting him back next to me, I gave him a little push. “Go with your daddy while I get ready.”
It took less than twenty minutes for me to get dressed and ready, but not much less. Rhett was right. My hair had been an absolute shit show. I just barely managed to tame it without having to wash it again. I was zipping up my sweater as I walked down the stairs when Rhett slid to a stop at the bottom, a huge grin splitting his face.