Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 122125 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 611(@200wpm)___ 489(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122125 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 611(@200wpm)___ 489(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
It’s impressive, really, and I can only dream of one day being that emotionally stable. I come by the craziness honestly, though—I’ve been this way my entire life.
Maybe it was being the youngest sibling, maybe it was losing my mom during some of my most crucial years, or maybe it’s just the way I was made, but I’m not the kind of gal who knows she’s doing the right or wrong thing right away. I’m the poor sap who has to find everything out the hard way.
I settle down in a chair at the table with Lydia and Lou and throw my brown leather gloves on the marble top. The two of them smile at me even with the screech of the chair legs caused by my abrupt movements, and I lean into my elbows on the table after I’ve taken a seat. “So, what time are we doing…you know…the thing?” I ask Lydia, knowing it’s incredibly stupid that I still can’t say the actual words going to visit Mom’s grave after all these years.
She doesn’t criticize, though, instead giving me the space I need and an answer too. “I think Dad said around two. It’s supposed to sleet later or something, so he doesn’t want to wait too late.”
I’m supposed to be in class with Ty at two, but hell, maybe this is better. With what I have planned for the two of us today, it’s better if we don’t see each other beforehand.
I pull out my phone to text him about it, and then I think better of it when I see Lydia and Lou both watching me closely. I tuck my phone back into my pocket and state nonchalantly, “Okay. I’ll have to let Professor Winslow know I won’t be in class, but it shouldn’t be a big deal. I can send him an email or something.”
“Professor Winslow, huh?” Lou teases. “So, have we officially moved on from the panties?”
I nod, humming my answer instead of saying it for the purposes of plausible deniability. “Things are good.”
I feel a little bad not giving them the whole rundown—I know they wouldn’t be judgmental—but there’s something about staying in a tiny little bubble with Ty and myself as the only inhabitants while we’re messing around that seems like the best option. I mean, I don’t know what this is or if it’ll go past next Tuesday. I don’t want to permanently tinge the way they look at him for no good reason if I don’t have to. He comes in here every Sunday, for crying out loud.
“Good. Good is good,” Lydia says before bugging her eyes out at Lou when she thinks I won’t notice. I roll mine and stand up, sliding my gloves onto my hands and then interlacing my fingers to mold them into place.
“Okay, I have to go to class and do some research, but I’ll see you at two, I guess.”
Lydia nods. “I’ll let you know if anything changes.”
“Sounds good.” I smile and wrap my scarf tight around my neck and head for the door.
It only takes me two seconds of being on the sidewalk, and away from Lou’s and Lydia’s eyes, before I’m taking one glove off and pulling my phone out of my pocket once again to text Ty that I’m going to miss his class later. He reacts as expected, telling me that’s fine. It’s only when his second text comes in, though, that I expand my smile.
Ty: I’m going to see you at some point today, though, yeah?
Me: Yes. In fact, I’ll text you with instructions later.
Ty: Instructions?
Me: Yes, Professor, instructions. Do you think you can follow them?
Ty: Count on it. In fact, count on me following them a little too well.
I laugh aloud before tucking my phone into my pocket and heading on my way. Valentine’s Day and love and shopping for flowers and chocolates may not be the reason, but today is going to be a busy, busy day.
Lydia and I stand off to the side, in a grove of trees, as our dad has a moment alone to place his flowers on our mom’s grave. At this point in my life, she’s been gone more years than she was here, but for my dad, she’s still the singular love of his life. He spent more years with her in the first half of his life than he did without her, and I know he misses her every day.
I know we have our differences, but this is one area where I can genuinely say I empathize with him.
Lydia wraps her arm around my shoulders and pulls my body toward her in a big, dramatic swing. I wrap my arms tight in return, and the two of us share a moment of letting our mom’s love wash over us on her favorite holiday.