Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 43536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 218(@200wpm)___ 174(@250wpm)___ 145(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 43536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 218(@200wpm)___ 174(@250wpm)___ 145(@300wpm)
“Oh, I’ll be there; don’t you worry your pretty little head. In fact, we’ll hire a car so we can both collapse as soon as we’re in for the night. Now, head up, shoulders back, and knock ‘em out, tiger. The sooner this shit’s done, the sooner you can start moving on,” Celeste states. As I’m waiting for the clock on the dash to change for me to make my way into the building, I’m people-watching as they come and go, wondering why they’re there and if I’m one of the many who are here to do the same thing.
“I can do this. Love you lots. I’m going to head inside. Their air conditioning is cheaper than running my car out of gas,” I reply.
“Good idea. Love you, Ty.” We hang up. I turn my car off, take the key out of my ignition, grab my purse, and throw my phone into the monstrosity I use as a purse along with a diaper bag even though my son is potty trained. Now, I use it for a change of clothes, a snack or two, wipes because he’s a boy and has a tendency to get messy, and a couple of bottles of water. I’m stepping out of my car and straighten my black cotton T-shirt-style divorce dress, jean jacket that will have me sweating in a few minutes if not seconds, and stylish sandals. After today is said and done, this outfit will either be retired or donated. No woman needs to keep something to remind her of the day she signed her divorce papers to a man she’s still hopelessly in love with. I’m such a fool. After today, I’ll be a single fool at least.
ONE
Tyra
Present Day
Here I am, once again questioning if I’m sane or not. Nobody has to answer that; the proof is in the pudding. The mirror in front of me shows that I’m clearly trying too hard, and why I thought agreeing to a blind date when I know with every depth of my being that I’m not ready confirms that.
“Mom, I don’t want to leave the house tonight. Why can’t you stay home with me?” Von interrupts my inner monologue, inadvertently giving me an out as well. Except I can’t, right? I could text the guy my now ex-in-laws set me up with, cancel, and then call Von’s grandparents and do the same. The relationship I have with James and Leah is amazing. They saw what was happening between Mace and me, the toll it was taking on not only me, but on their grandson as well. His parents have stepped up to the plate in a way they should never have had to, picking up Mace’s slack caused by own selfishness.
“I can stay home. I know grammy and grampy were looking forward to having you tonight, though. Are you sure staying home is what you want to do?” Selfishly, I hope Von says that’s what he wants. I’m even crossing my fingers that things go my way.
“Well…” He pauses to come up with the right words. “Do you know if they have my favorite ice cream?” His eyebrows are at the roof of his hairline as he considers the prospect that they’d have anything less than what he likes. I swear they ask him each and every time before he comes over on what should be Mace’s weekends.
“I think that’s a silly question. Don’t they always have all of your favorites?” Which they do, down to the toys. Von is the only grandchild on both sides of our families, the apple of their eyes, and can do no wrong. I get it because I think pretty highly of my not-so little boy.
“Fine, I’ll go, but pick me up early tomorrow morning, please?” he begs. I planned on doing that anyways, seeing as how I have a rare Saturday off. The spa I work at is open six days a week. Having two days off consecutively is like winning the lotto.
“What are you scheming for our Saturday? I thought we could get up, scrub the house, go grocery shopping, and then maybe hit up the park?” His little nose scrunches up until I get to the part about the park.
“Okay, pick me up after the boring stuff. You look really pretty, Mom. Are you going out with Auntie Cece?” Always the inquisitive one with questions galore along with a compliment. One day, he’ll make a woman very happy.
“I’ll do that. It won’t be too early though. Unless you want to help scrub toilets?” I’m trying to veer him away from the path of asking too many questions about the reason I’m dressed up instead of the scrubs I wear to work or the jean shorts and tank top I’m usually in when not at work.