Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 108489 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 542(@200wpm)___ 434(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108489 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 542(@200wpm)___ 434(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
I tucked Luna in, sitting at the edge of her black wood bed. The whole room was blue and full of posters of seahorses, seashells clinging to the walls. It had her personality, and suddenly, the need to cry slammed into me. Because it wasn’t my first rodeo tucking someone into bed, and it wasn’t the first time I knew I’d have to say goodbye to them, eventually.
I wanted to hug her, but I didn’t. Couldn’t.
Every bone in my body ached, burned, and yearned for it. Which was exactly why I needed to stay away. I couldn’t bulldoze into her life, knowing I couldn’t stay. It was like planting myself in, watering the seed, letting the sun kiss it and allow it to grow only to yank it from its roots. Knowing Luna was like me—attached to an unstable man who could tear her away from me tomorrow morning if he wanted. And who knew what Trent Rexroth really wanted? He was an eternal riddle enfolded in a delicious suit.
“Hey, Germs, do you know what?”
Luna nodded, letting me “burrito” her by tucking the edges of her blanket under her body so she was positively cocooned. That’s what I used to do to Theo, the rare times he’d let me.
“I had a lot of fun tonight. And I hope you did, too.”
She nodded, and I smiled, and maybe it was too dark for her to see it, because the next thing she did shocked me.
“Me, too.”
Throaty. Small. Breathy, like wind caressing waves at dawn.
Floored, I blinked away my surprise. Luna had spoken. To me! I wondered if she did it with Trent and Camila, too, every now and again, but I doubted it—he’d made too big of a deal about her nodding. I wanted to jump and call him, but had to play it cool. Fretting about it would only serve as a reminder that she was different.
“You’re just saying that because I fed you pizza and Coke and broke every single one of your dad’s rules.” I smirked. She laughed. I stood up awkwardly, moving away. Not kissing. Not touching. Not caressing.
“Good night, Germs.”
A little nod in the dark. I turned on the Dora the Explorer lamp by the door and smiled. I’ll take it.
KATIE DEJONG MADE ME THINK about teenage Trent.
One thing about him was he didn’t believe he’d be sitting here today, eating a lobster (he hated lobster), drinking imported wine even though he lived in California (he hated wine), discussing the pros and cons of college rankings (he didn’t give a shit.)
This was exactly why I’d never dated. It was boring. The end game—marriage and kids—didn’t interest me, and the short-term touchdown—sex—was available without the inconvenience of wining and dining someone.
I didn’t say more than sixteen sentences the whole date, but I wasn’t rude, either. And I walked Katie to her car, and smiled at her, and didn’t promise I’d call, but when she leaned forward for a kiss, the kind I’d never give a steady fuck, I smoothly diverted it to a peck on the cheek.
Then I drove the fuck out of there, realizing, when I parked my car in the underground lot, that I couldn’t even remember what she’d worn or what color her hair was.
The weird sense of urgency grasped me in the balls in the elevator. The notion that I fucking went and put my kid in the hands of someone I barely knew suddenly made very little sense. All I knew about Edie Van Der Zee was that she was a liar, a thief, and a girl in trouble. Why I’d have her anywhere near my kid unsupervised was a mystery. I was worked up even before I shoved my key in the door. By the time I opened the door and saw what was going on, I was on the verge of flipping my shit.
A pizza box was sitting on the island, making the whole living room and kitchen area smell like oily bread and fucking mushrooms. Two cans of Coke on the counter—of course, she hadn’t even bothered throwing them in the trash—and that’s before I walked into the living room and found Edie sleeping on the couch, with my laptop in front of her. Spying, no doubt, and not giving a single fuck about hiding it.
I walked over to her, tucking my hands in my pockets, watching her. The way her chest rose and fell. The blonde hairs of her eyebrows. Her full, pink lips and golden hair. The tan lines on her shoulders. Her freckles.
“Wake up,” I commanded, my voice dripping ice all over her stirring body.
Her eyelids fluttered, at first slowly, and she didn’t sit up until I took another step forward, nudging her arm with my knee.
“Hey.” Her voice was hoarse. “How was it?”
“You ordered pizza.” I ignored her. “My daughter doesn’t eat fucking pizza.”