Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 89350 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 447(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89350 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 447(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
“You are allowed childcare help, you know that, right? They had a nanny before.” His father sounded even crankier than usual.
“Yeah, well they’ve got me now.” Isaiah still wasn’t sure why it was so important to him that the kids not be handed off to a full-time nanny. Sure, he was going to need some sort of daycare or something for Liam soon, but he didn’t like thinking about that. These were his kids, and he liked spending time with them, even when it was inconvenient. Even when they drove him nuts.
He glanced at the officious way his father walked to the baggage claim, not checking to make sure they were following, and Isaiah knew. Not gonna turn into you. Not gonna let them ever feel ignored. Something essential changed inside him at that moment, some new piece of backbone, some of the resolve he’d been looking for all week.
He waited for his father to get his suitcases, then led the way to the car. The kids were whiny the whole long walk to the parking garage, and Isaiah hoped they’d fall asleep before his father spontaneously combusted.
“We’ve got to get you something more family friendly,” his father groused as he fit his taller frame into the passenger side. Isaiah supposed he could have taken the SUV, but he was trying to rely on Mark as little as possible, and that included borrowing his ride.
“I’ve got bigger worries than the size of my car.” Isaiah pulled out, joining a long line of vehicles waiting to pay at the exit to the garage.
“I know.” His father busted out the stern tone right away. Isaiah had had to ask the aunts for reference letters for his attorney to add to his file, and he bet word of Mark’s intervention in the guardianship case had reached his dad. “How’s the job hunt coming?”
“I’ve got some résumés out.” Isaiah was working multiple avenues—job hunting while also trying to build his client list.
“Good, good. If you wanted to finish the master’s—”
“I don’t.” Why, why can’t you ask me what I want? What I dream about? What makes me happy? That same little kid who’d once waited so impatiently for his dad still lived in Isaiah, but now he had that new spine he’d discovered in the baggage claim. Fuck. This. Years’ worth of anger bubbled up. He’d known all damn week that he needed to ask his dad for help, needed to get a reference letter from him too. And he’d chafed, not wanting to disappoint his dad yet again, not wanting the inevitable lecture.
And screw that. He was done. D-O-N-E. Hot and tired and cranky, just like the kids, and completely over his father’s disapproval. Time for more decisive action and to let the beginnings of a plan fluttering around his brain coalesce into something he could work with. Gonna trust my gut.
Either this was going to be brilliant or he was going to fall spectacularly on his face, but the only way to find out was to take this risk. He paid for parking and headed south, not north on the interstate. Let’s see how long it takes him to notice.
Dylan had asked him what his vision for his future was, and Isaiah was still trying to figure that out, but for the first time, he knew that what it wasn’t going to be—he wasn’t turning into his dad or the person his dad wanted him to be. Life was too damn short. All week he kept seeing those stacks of boxes and bags in the master bedroom, taunting him. That was what happened when you left this earth. You got reduced to a few mementos. A watch. A few books with scribbled inscriptions. A suit too nice to donate. What did he really want to leave behind? How would people remember him?
He remembered his dad’s words at the funeral—how he’d called Cal a second son and said glowing thing after glowing thing. But had he really known Cal? The frustrated father? The goofy ringleader? The quick temper? The self-centered egoist? The diehard football fan? What parts of Cal had his father really known? Isaiah wasn’t sure, but he knew that he wanted his dad to know him, not the idealistic vision he’d held for so long for Isaiah, but to really know who Isaiah was right now.
They were almost to the bridge when his father seemed to realize Isaiah was going the opposite direction of his house.
“Where are we going?” His father looked around, scowl on his face. The younger two kids, as predicted, had fallen asleep in the back.
“Field trip.”
“Yay!” Daphne was possibly the only one excited in the car and even she sounded sleepy, like she’d be asleep herself before they crossed the bridge.
“I’m not sure I have time for this—”