Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 61746 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 309(@200wpm)___ 247(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61746 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 309(@200wpm)___ 247(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
“Actually, you all exceeded my expectations,” I replied as we shared a small laugh. “I think that was the most interesting tattoo session I could’ve ever experienced.”
“A bunch of ex-cons fighting over you?” Marcus joked.
“Everyone is a winner,” I replied, flashing him a playful wink before I could even process the move. They all caught my eye today, and I had a feeling I wouldn’t ever forget the experience of getting my first tattoo.
When we arrived at the school, and he pulled up in front of the office, I reached out and placed my hand on his arm.
“Thank you again for bringing me here. I’ll be right back,” I promised him, not wanting to waste any more of his time.
Marcus shook his head as he reached out to pat my leg.
“No need to thank me. I’ll be right here,” he told me.
Warmth bloomed in my chest as our eyes locked for a few seconds. He didn’t even know me, and he went out of his way for me. I finally broke away from him and hurried into the office, my white sneakers thudding against the white linoleum flooring.
“Mommy!”
I turned and saw Chloe sitting in one of the seats across from the front lady’s desk, looking tired and miserable. I crouched down in front of her and placed my hand on her forehead, feeling how warm she was. Her temperature had to have gone up since they called me.
“Come on. Let’s go home. I’ll fix you some soup,” I told her as I picked her up, nodding to the front desk lady before walking outside.
“Where is our car?” Chloe asked as I approached the Mustang.
“Um… I’m with a friend. His name is Marcus,” I said as he stepped out of the car to open the door to the backseat. “Say hi, Chloe.”
“Hi,” Chloe said as she gripped my tank top strap, peering at Marcus with wide eyes.
“Sorry you don’t feel good, Chloe. Is there any music you like to listen to?” he asked as he held the door open while I securely buckled Chloe in.
Chloe chewed on her bottom lip for a second.
“Hello, hello, hello,” she replied.
Marcus pitched me a confused look.
I laughed a little as I straightened back up and let him close the door.
“She’s talking about Smells Like Teen Spirit by Nirvana,” I explained. “I’ve been playing the Nevermind album in the car on the way to school.”
Marcus gazed at me like he was starstruck.
“No shit. You’ve got great taste,” he said with a chuckle. “And so does she.”
With a raging blush, I got back into my seat, my heart rate doing a sprint as Marcus played Nirvana for Chloe on the ride to my house. During the drive, he glanced over at me, our elbows brushing as we rested them on the center console.
“You’re a good mom,” he told me. “I’m guessing the dad isn’t in the picture?”
I shook my head.
“Just me and her,” I replied before glancing over my shoulder to see that Chloe was dozing off. Whatever she was sick with was wearing her down. “I left her dad a while ago.”
“I grew up with a single mom. There wasn’t anything she wouldn’t do for me, and I know it was the toughest thing in the world for her to raise me alone. But she did. And she never complained,” Marcus told me. “You guys don’t get nearly as much credit as you should.”
My chest ached. His words touched me, especially since they were true. I had quite a few guys turn their nose up at the prospect of being with me because I had a child, which stung, but I would only want to be with someone who also wanted to be a dad to Chloe.
“Do you have kids?” I asked.
Marcus’s mouth turned down a little.
“No, I don’t. I’ve always wanted a daughter, though,” he replied, his eyes shifting to the rearview mirror for a second to peer at Chloe. “I hope she feels better.”
I sighed and nodded, chewing on the inside of my cheek as I started planning what to do first when I got home. She needed food, medicine, and something to drink so that she stayed hydrated. If she was infectious, I had to clean all of the sheets and pillowcases, switch out her toothbrush, and wipe down the counters. Among a million other things.
Once Marcus pulled into the driveway of my small house made of grey vinyl with little windows and a tiny porch, he put his car in park and dug around in his pocket, pulling out a shop business card. He grabbed a pen from his center console and wrote a number down on the back before handing it to me.
“If you need anything at all, call me,” he told me.
I took the card from him, our fingertips brushing and sending a spark through me.