Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 74225 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74225 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
“You must just stare at her all day long, right?” I asked as I cradled the little girl in my arms.
“Yes, her daddy too. We’re tired, but it’s totally worth it” Ray said. "They all are." She pushed back a tiny lock of baby-soft hair from Nicole's little head. “Do have any?”
I shook my head. “No. I learned a while back that I can’t have kids.”
“I’m sorry,” Ray offered. She must have sensed that I didn’t want to talk about it anymore because she quickly changed the subject.
“I’ve got a few errands to run now," Ray said. "But how about we get together later on this afternoon after I pick the kids up from school and drop them off with King? We can have ourselves some girl talk. I only have Thia, Bear's old lady and she's pregnant. I can't tell you how tired I am of talking about diaper genies and boppy pillows."
“That sounds great,” I said.
“You need any help with all this?” Ray asked, looking around the house to the peeling wallpaper and cracked drywall. “King and Bear are about as handy, and they come, and Bear has an arsenal of guys that would be willing to help for as little as a few beers.”
I reluctantly handed Ray back her baby and walked them out the open front door. Ray carefully navigated her way down the rickety front steps. I glanced over at my helper who was still struggling to get the FOR SALE sign out of the hatchback of the rental car. “You know, Ray. I might just take you up on that,” I said with a smile that she returned.
“Good, cause that boy over there is cute and all, but he looks like the type that wouldn’t know a hammer if it fell from a shelf and smacked him on top of the head.”
“Unfortunately, that’s very true,” Brandon huffed, after finally freeing the sign. The collar and armpits of his dress shirt were saturated with dark circles of perspiration.
“Oh, shit, I almost forgot the main reason I stopped over. I swear these little ones give me the biggest case of mom-brain sometimes,” Ray said, speed walking over to the old Ford truck parked on the edge of the lawn. She reached in through the open window of the passenger seat and returned with a folded piece of paper. “I was thinking about what Preppy said earlier? The thing about you being his wife?”
“It was just something he said in confusion,” I repeated the same reasoning I’d given her that morning.
“No, I don’t think that’s it,” Ray argued, unfolding the page and handing it to me. It was a photocopy of the marriage certificate I’d made for Preppy. I shook my head. “No, you don’t understand. This paper is just something I made up. It’s a fake. All the signatures. The witnesses. All forged,” I explained, pulling the paper down from my face to find Ray staring back at me like she was not convinced. “It was something Preppy needed when he was trying to get custody of King's daughter; it’s not even real. There was no wedding. No minister. No nothing. It’s...not real,” I repeated the same words in an effort to get my point across.
Ray tapped the spot on the lower right corner of the page over the official county stamp, one that would be a raised on the original. It wasn't something I put there.
Ray continued, “I got this copy from the County Clerk’s office this morning,” she said. “And according to them...it’s very very real.”
"Shit," I swore, turning the page around like it could tell me something more by inspecting the blank side. "That makes us..."
"In the eyes of the State of Florida? Married," Ray finished for me, flashing me a wink. "Congratulations, Dre. You’re Mrs. Samuel Clearwater."
CHAPTER THREE
PREPPY
A thousand hopeful whispers breathed over my body. Little bursts of air peppered my skin as someone gently lifted my arm and two fingers pressed firmly on the inside of my wrist. I was tucked and untucked in varies stages of cocooning, wrapped in unfamiliar softness. The air around me was fresh and light with none of the sticky dampness I'd become used to clinging to the inside of my throat and lungs, the kind of wet air that threatened to choke me with the thick stench of mildew and decay.
The sound of heavy rain pelting against a window overhead rang in my ear drums. A clap of thunder boomed, rattling my aching bones. A burst of bright lightning immediately followed, flashing in front of my closed eyelids as if it was somehow announcing my new semi-conscious state to the world.
Or maybe, just to me.
“Look, his eyes are fluttering again,” A female voice stated. “This could be it.” For a second I envisioned the dark haired girl with black eyes and red lips. The one I thought about so often I started to question if she was even ever real or just part of a fantasy I’d created to pass the time. But when the voice kept talking the image of my girl faded and recognition took hold.