Total pages in book: 48
Estimated words: 47615 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 238(@200wpm)___ 190(@250wpm)___ 159(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 47615 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 238(@200wpm)___ 190(@250wpm)___ 159(@300wpm)
She’s the one person apart from Jen I’d never hurt intentionally.
But how can I be with her lifelong bestie and not kill our own relationship? Abs and I are more like old friends than father and daughter.
Even when she turns on her theatrics, I have to be the grown-up between us.
“You need the work at the diner, don’t you?” I ask Jen.
She nods her head slowly, crimping her mouth as she thinks to herself.
“Mom freaks out if I don’t do the hours,” she finally tells me. “But only because we need the extra cash. Even the tiny amount I get from tips at the diner,” she adds.
I grind my jaw set hard as I frown.
The idea of Jen struggling with anything just makes me mad.
But having her mom on her case about it wouldn’t make it any easier for either of them.
Abby and I have a good life. A great life where we are, and I often forget how a lot of people struggle just to have a fraction of what we take for granted.
But it hits me hard that Jen and her mom are these people. It makes me take a step back and look at myself.
My plans for Jen for the day, how much I want to spoil and pleasure her.
No matter how many different ways I look at it, I keep coming back to the same conclusion.
She and I have to be together in everything, not just where we sleep.
Her mom too, and Abby. All of us really have to be…Family.
It’s the only logical solution. And the only way I can do that is to put a ring on Jen’s finger and a baby in her belly.
Which has kind of been my plan all along…but I guess now I’m just seeing things from a different angle, which makes it even clearer.
“How much is your diner job worth?” I ask, making Jen shift uncomfortably.
“C’mon,” I coax her, smiling to make it less embarrassing for her. “How much?”
She tells me her average figure income per week, and I almost have to pull over. It makes me feel so sick.
I could say a thousand different things in reply, but the look on Jen’s face is enough.
“Well. You won’t be doing that anymore,” I assure her in a firm tone. “And that much money plus whatever she needs can be going to your mom from now on,” I add.
Not realizing how insulting it might sound.
“I don’t think my mom would see it that way, somehow,” Jen cringes. “Unless you wanna just drive over there now and explain our little situation to her while you open your wallet?” she adds with some sarcasm.
But I shoot Jen a look that tells her maybe I will, which sees her change her attitude pretty quick.
“Can we not argue about it?” she sighs, pleading with me to forget about it, to just try to enjoy ourselves now that we’re alone.
But I can’t just let it go in my mind or anywhere else.
I shrug it off for Jen’s benefit for now. But I vow to myself that neither Jen nor her mom is ever going to want for anything again if I have anything to do with it.
Plus, Jen’s right. No point in letting some facts of life overshadow our time together.
And I’m quick to let her know I’m not the arguing kind.
“You wanna grab a bite to eat?” I ask. Changing the subject as we pass a different kind of diner.
The drive-thru variety.
It’s poor timing, really, considering what we were just talking about, but dammit. I’m hungry again.
“We just ate like a couple of hours ago,” Jen groans, glancing up at me with a questioning look.
“I know. And now I’m hungry again,” I explain with a chuckle as my belly rumbles. Pulling off so I can join the queue while Jen decides if she’s in or not.
But it’s pretty clear she’s still thinking about everything else I’ve just brought up.
Wanting food right after some disturbing conversation is maybe like rubbing salt on an open wound, but I can’t help it if I’m hungry again.
“I’m sorry I brought up the diner thing, okay?” I finally tell her after we inch forward in the line just a little.
“Now, please tell me what you wanna eat, so I don’t feel like more of an idiot if I have to eat in front of you while you go without,” I add, feeling my good humor evaporating.
This is why I need to eat. I can get unreasonably grumpy if my blood sugar gets too low.
Jen looks sheepish a minute before a coy smile plays on her lips.
Her eyes shift to the menu outside while she shields her eyes from the sun to study it.
“I guess some ice cream would be nice. Oh! And they have those little cheeseburgers too.”
I give a low grunt of satisfaction.