Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 53629 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 268(@200wpm)___ 215(@250wpm)___ 179(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 53629 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 268(@200wpm)___ 215(@250wpm)___ 179(@300wpm)
Bracing a hand on the counter on each side of the sink, I gather my courage, not knowing if he came inside or simply left.
I don’t know which would be easier to take right now, because all I feel like doing is sagging into my bed and letting all of this out. Just to get it over with and move on.
With a gentle knock, the bathroom door creaks open and Brody stands behind me in the mirror. “You all right?” he asks and my shoulders hunch, my hands cover my face and I can only shake my head no.
I give myself a full second, maybe two, before reaching for the tissue box again only to find it empty and relying on toilet paper in its place. “I just need a moment and I’ll tell you everything.” My reddened eyes stare at his in the mirror as I say, “I promise. I’ll tell you anything you want to know. I just need a moment.”
Brody
“I keep telling myself, there’s no way for you to know what I’m feeling right now and what I went through.” Magnolia’s face crumples as she adds in a strained voice, “But I wish you could. I wish you knew what this felt like and how much I wish everything was different. I’ve wished it for years.
“I never wanted to keep anything from you. I never wanted to hurt you. I was just hurting myself and it kept me …” Her gaze drifts to the hallway every time her voice raises slightly. I don’t miss it. Her little girl, possibly my little girl, is tucked away sleeping.
My hands are raised as I go to her, the distance disappearing as I wrap my arms around her small frame. She sags against my chest although she doesn’t let her face touch my shirt. Instead her forearms are braced there.
I imagined this scene for hours before I came, ever since Griffin told me. He said he figured she was Robert’s until the rumor mill started up and there were whispers that it was some guy she hooked up with in college who’d knocked her up.
For all I know, that little girl could be Robert’s, my child, or someone else’s. But she should have told me if there was even a chance that she was mine.
That’s all I was thinking on the drive down here.
I didn’t know I’d feel like this. I didn’t know she’d break down like she is. “I don’t want you to be upset,” I whisper in her hair, rocking her slightly and running my hand up and down her back.
Magnolia doesn’t say anything, but she does try to pull away and I don’t want her to. I don’t know a lot of things right now, but I know when she backs away and heads to the bathroom, I wish she didn’t. I wish she’d lay her head against me and let her tears land wherever they land; I’d still hold her.
With nothing in my arms and feeling a weight on my chest, I plant myself down on her sofa. My elbows rest on my knees as I lean forward. It was one night years ago. A single night. My grandfather’s voice jokes in the back of my head: It only takes once.
“There’s a chance she’s yours. And there’s a chance she’s not,” Magnolia admits to me. “I didn’t know how to tell you when she’s … she’s my whole world and it feels like no matter what I do, it comes back on her.” It takes great effort on her part to keep the fresh tears back and I hate to see her like this.
I don’t know how to make things right, but I want to.
My mind races with every possible thought until she sits down beside me. Leaving space between us, far too much space. With my chin propped up on my closed fist, I peek at her.
Her red-rimmed eyes barely glance back. Everything makes sense now. Every little detail all lining up. I know I’m not feeling what she’s feeling, but damn it hurts. It’s too much.
“Dahlia, you look prettier when you smile,” I joke with her and her expression falters a moment until she sees me smile. Rose. Magnolia. It doesn’t matter what she calls herself.
“Dahlia now?” A hint of a smile touches her flushed face.
“They’re beautiful flowers,” I whisper back with a smirk. “Come here,” I say, giving her the small command, leaning back and gesturing with my hand. She’s slow to fold herself into my arms but she does. This time her cheek rests against my chest and her hand lays right in the center of it.
“Which one is a dahlia?” she asks me and my chest vibrates with a chuckle, stirring her.
“I have no idea, to be honest.” She smiles broader and I feel it. My smile widens too when she readjusts, sneaking closer to me until her leg is pressed against mine and my arm fully wraps around her back. “It’s the first flower name that came to me after Rose and Magnolia,” I say.