Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 85711 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85711 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
“Okay,” he replies softly, and I can picture him sitting down as he waits for me to say more.
“I’m not asking you either,” I say. “I’m telling you that you need to come down here.” I stop the car as my heart beats so fast in my chest.
“We can get on a plane within the hour.” His voice stays calm, and it’s like he knows I need to hear the calmness in it. “Do I need it before?”
“No,” I say softly. “It can wait until tomorrow. I just need you and Mom to come down here.”
“Son,” he says in a whisper. “Are you okay?” His voice cracks, and I know he’s probably freaking out right about now.
“I’ll explain everything tomorrow,” I reassure him. “But I’m okay.”
“Do you need anything tonight?” he asks, and I smile.
“No, I just need you and Mom to come and see me.”
“We’ll be on the plane at eight o’clock,” he says, and I hit the steering wheel with my finger. “If you change your mind and want me to come tonight,” he offers, “all you have to do is say the word.”
“I’ll be okay. Text me when you take off.”
“I will. I love you, son,” he reminds me, and I put my head back on the seat. “Proud of you.” The tear runs down my cheek as he says the words, and I can hear the tears in his voice also. “Best thing besides your mother was you and your sister.”
I smile. “Didn’t you call Mom the b-word the first day you met her?” I ask, and he gasps.
“Who told you that?” he hisses.
“Mom. Last year when she got mad at you,” I say. “On the beach.” My parents never fight. Like I can count on my hands the number of times I’ve heard them arguing, but last summer, my father took my uncle Matthew’s side for I don’t even know what. I’m sure if you ask her, she won’t even remember, but she was pretty heated, so she probably would know. She was livid.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” he deflects. “I didn’t even know who she was.”
I hiss out, “That doesn’t make it any better.”
“I have to go and tell your mother to pack,” he says. “We will both see you tomorrow.”
“Thanks, Dad,” I say, leaving out “for taking me out of my freak-out moment.” Just hearing his voice settled me.
“Anything for you,” he assures me, and I hang up.
I put my head back on the headrest and think about how the hell I’m going to tell them. This is so not how I wanted this to happen, this is so not how I thought it would happen. I thought I would meet the girl, fall in love, and then get married. Then the kids would come. I mean, that is how I was told it happens.
I pull off from the curb and call Dylan. I have to tell someone, and he’s the closest thing to a brother I have. “Well, well, well, if it isn’t the palm tree boy.”
I laugh at him. “You got my picture,” I say, and he just laughs.
“I did,” he breathes out. “I have to say I love it here. I love the city. Love the team. Love the fans.” He has been with Montreal from the first day they drafted him. After his rookie contract, he just stayed there. They paid him more than enough to stay there also. “What I don’t love.” He huffs out, “The fucking cold.”
“It’s insane,” I say. “When you would send me pictures, I would think you were joking.”
“Why the fuck would I joke about the weather?” he asks, and I can hear his dog barking in the background.
“Did you hear about Erika?” I ask.
“Yeah, your sister texted me,” he says. “Even though she said she was blocking me. She okay?”
“Yeah. Last I heard, she was okay. You’ll never guess who I saw when I went to get the girls at school,” I say. I keep him hanging for a moment before saying, “Jillian is Mia’s teacher.”
“Jillian?” he shrieks. “Jillian, the one-night stand Jillian?” His voice goes higher. “The one where you stalked her.”
I shake my head, turning onto my street and pressing the button to open the garage door. “I didn’t stalk her. I went to her house once.” I park my car in the assigned parking spot and turn off the BMW. “It was one time, and I didn’t go back because Alex said that she was going to call the police on me.”
“She would,” Dylan agrees. “She’s cutthroat like that. She sent me a text after the game,” he says, laughing. “It was just the knife emoji.” I laugh, getting out of the BMW. “So how is the mystery girl?”
“She’s good,” I reply, and then I stop walking. “She is even better looking than I remember.”