Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 103281 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 516(@200wpm)___ 413(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103281 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 516(@200wpm)___ 413(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
Lizzie’s eyes were wide like she couldn’t believe what she’d heard. “Why do you owe that guy money?”
“I don’t.”
“Well, he thinks you do. Why?”
I didn’t want to explain this to a thirteen-year-old. Now, I’d become one of those moms who brought weird-ass guys around her kid like a terrible parent. Fuck, this was a nightmare. “Don’t worry about it, alright?”
“How can I not worry about it? Mom, what’s going on?”
I slid the chain into the lock even though I’d never felt that was necessary before. “He was just some loser I went out with. When it didn’t work out, he wanted me to pay for all the drinks and meals he’d bought.”
Lizzie’s jaw dropped. “That’s insane!”
“Yes, I know.” He’d had no idea where I lived in the building, but when he couldn’t get a hold of me in any other way, he took it that far. I didn’t want to pay out of pride, but now that I was actually scared, I might have to slip a check under the door just to get him to leave us alone. If I’d known he would pull that stunt, I would have just paid him so my daughter wouldn’t have to see that.
“What a jerk. What are you going to do?”
“I’ll pay him. Problem will go away. So, don’t stress, Lizzie.”
“Don’t pay him! He doesn’t deserve it.”
“Sweetheart.” My hand moved to her shoulder. “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”
“Some guy came to our door and called you a bitch and demanded money because it didn’t work out? Yeah, I’m a little worried, Mom.”
I was so fucking humiliated.
“Because you didn’t want to see him anymore? That’s just…crazy.”
“Well, I didn’t tell him about you. When I did, he flipped out.”
She rolled her eyes. “That’s even worse. I’m sorry, Mom.”
I continued to forget how mature she was. “Don’t be, sweetheart. It’s fine.” I rubbed her back. “Let’s make some cookies and forget about it, alright?”
She continued to look at me with pity in her eyes.
I hated that look. “Lizzie, it’s okay. I’m fine.”
“You aren’t fine. You’re scared.”
“I’m not scared. I’m not scared of anything—”
“I know you’re lying, Mom. But yeah, let’s make some cookies.”
I walked to Derek’s desk with the status of the applicants. “Thirty-seven agreed. Three declined.”
He didn’t seem offended that some of the applicants were stupid enough to reject their acceptance. He grabbed the three applications of the people who’d passed on the offer. “They must have been offered full-time positions elsewhere.”
“Yes, actually.”
“Good for them. I’ll pick three other people.” He was in jeans and a hoodie, his eyes still lifeless, like he didn’t care about his work but showed up out of obligation, which wasn’t like him.
“Alright.” I turned away.
“How’s Lizzie doing in school?”
I slowly turned back to him even though I didn’t want him to ask about my daughter, ask about the girl who’d believed in him so deeply and then crashed and burned just the way I did. “Good. She’s graduating middle school soon.”
He watched me, still wearing an expression of guilt, of remorse. That was how he always looked at me now, like a dog that ripped up the seat cushion and was ready for another round of discipline. “She found another tutor, then?”
I didn’t hesitate to lie. It was easy to lie to someone you didn’t respect. “Yes. She doesn’t need you, Derek. Neither one of us does.” I walked off before he could say something more, refusing to acknowledge how our world had shattered once he left us. Everything went to shit, and we were still drowning…even all this time later.
15
Derek
My work used to be my life.
Now, it meant nothing to me.
I didn’t give a damn about building the best rover. I didn’t give a damn about fixing the prototype for my previous rocket. All of it just seemed…pointless. The things I cared about took precedence in my mind—and Emerson was still on that list.
Even though she didn’t want me.
Even though she could barely look at me.
Sometimes, the grief swallowed me so deeply that I just sat at my workbench and stared at my projects without really thinking about them. Jerome and Pierre were on their afternoon break and had taken a trip to the main building to use the lounge. I was alone in the warehouse.
But also alone in every sense of the word.
I stared at the surface of my desk, my phone and papers there, thinking about my mother’s last chemo treatment, the way my father screamed at me for bringing her ice cream—even though she’d asked me to get it for her.
And then my phone rang…with Lizzie’s name on the screen.
I had to stare for a couple seconds because I couldn’t believe her name was there, in bold letters, and it continued to ring like it wasn’t a butt dial or an accident. My hand shook as I grabbed it and answered. “Lizzie?” I still didn’t believe this call was purposeful. She hated me more than her mother did.