Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 86444 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86444 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
“Shit, I need something in the garage,” he says, walking to the door, and I follow him. “I need to give them a shirt,” he says as he moves boxes around.
“Why are your boxes in the garage?” I ask him as I lean against the doorjamb and watch him walk around the twenty or so cardboard boxes that he has in there.
“I didn’t know if I wanted to unpack,” he says, tossing one box to the side while he opens another one.
“You didn’t know if you wanted to unpack?” I laugh now. “What does that mean?”
“It means I hate this house,” he says to me, and then he just looks at me. “It’s a monster of a house with seven bedrooms and ten bathrooms. Who needs all this space?” I don’t answer him as he just continues talking while he opens boxes. “It’s so cold.”
“Well, maybe if you unpack, it will feel more like home,” I try to tell him, and he shakes his head.
“I never liked the house,” he says when he opens the fifth box and looks through it. “I just got it because Cassie wanted it.” He closes the box and then opens the next one. “I figured she’d spend most of the time in it, so I got it for her.”
“So why don’t you move?” He looks up at me at the same time that I hear Ari start to talk from her bedroom. “If you don’t want to live in this house, move.”
“But,” he says, and I don’t want to push it.
“I’m going to go get Ari,” I say, turning to walk into the house, and I finally take a second to look around and see that nothing is personal here, nothing on the walls, nothing on a table. There are baby toys scattered around, and baby stuff in the kitchen. You know that a baby lives here, but that is all. I walk down the hallway, looking at the white walls, and finally see that it’s bleak. Even Ari’s bedroom is decorated and filled up, but there aren’t little touches that say I live here. There are just things that say a child lives here. Their only pictures are the ones that are professionally taken, and it’s only of Cassie. Ari sits up in the middle of her bed. “Good morning, sweet girl.” I pick her up and kiss her neck. “Are we ready to slay the day, pretty girl?”
Walking over to the changing table, I put her down and unsnap her out of her pajamas, then change her diaper while pretending to eat her toes. “Okay, I’m out.” I look over my shoulder at Ralph as he walks in and kisses my cheek and then bends to kiss Ari. “I’ll be back soon. Be a good girl for Candace.”
“Drive safe,” I say, and he just waits there, looking at me.
“What?” I ask him.
“Give me a kiss,” he orders. I laugh, but he comes forward and kisses my lips. “Tonight, we have to go over the rules.”
“The rules?” I ask him, confused.
“Yeah, rule one, always kiss before one of us leaves,” he says, and I lean forward and kiss his neck, smelling his soap.
“Is that so?” I ask him, shaking my head. “I can’t wait to hear rule two.”
“Oh, that is for another time,” he says. “I’m going to be late.”
“Get out of here,” I say and dress Ariella in another pajama and start the day with her. “Do you want to take a walk?” I ask her while I sit down with her and her bottle. I take her on a two-hour walk, and get back at the same time as Ralph pulls up in the driveway. I can tell just with the way his hair curls around the front of his head that he didn’t shower.
He smiles at the both of us, coming closer, and I hold up my hand. “Shower, then kisses.”
“Rule number two.” He laughs at me, stopping beside me. “Always kiss when arrives regardless.” He bends, and I kiss him even though he smells.
“I would like to counter on rule two,” I say, and he laughs.
“Got to go shower. The photographer will be here soon,” he says, and I just shake my head.
I walk in the house with Ari still in the stroller, grabbing some water and then sitting on the stool to go through my emails. I’m answering an email when the doorbell rings, and I look over to see if Ari wakes up. She doesn’t, so I slip off the stool and walk over to the door. Opening it, I see Monroe, the photographer.
“Well, there she is.” He walks in with two bags, and air kisses my cheeks. “I came a bit early to set up,” he says, and I just smile at him.
“I don’t know what you were thinking,” I say as we walk into the house. “I was thinking of some shots of him working out. A couple of shots of him doing dad things.”