Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 96284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
I clung to the relief soaring within me, and I prayed that would calm me the fuck down. All things considered, tonight had been a success. Yeah, I was terrified Sandra would never connect with the twins, but Kathryn had come through with what I felt was the best solution for now. And Sandra had agreed. She was on board. With a bit of luck and a lot of hard work, we’d avoid lawyers arguing and drawn-out hostility.
It was a temporary, short-term fix. I would have the kids most of the time, while Sandra—as she’d promised while rolling her damn eyes—continued to go to therapy. She would make more of an effort to face her problems. We’d agreed we could see the kids whenever we needed to. Every other week would be mine as a standard, and her week… That would be up to her. She could take a night or two if she had the energy, just spend a few hours with them, visit me every single day if they remained with me, or… We’d simply be flexible during her week, and Kathryn had offered to help her with the twins, which meant the whole fucking world to me.
Best mother-in-law ever. She really loved my kids. She wanted her Gramma time with them. Including right now. She’d brought them home with her so Sandra and I could sort some things out with the condo. I’d packed a few bags, a handful of boxes, my clothes, a cat… The back seat and the trunk were filled.
Ninja stared at me through the netting of his carrier in the passenger seat.
“Don’t look at me like that,” I croaked.
We were gonna go through the kids’ stuff tomorrow.
I reached for a packet of tissues in the glovebox and blew my nose.
I looked like a fucking train wreck. Jake was gonna open the door and shut it in my face.
No, he wouldn’t. He was more likely to take me to the hospital and say I’d been run over by a monster truck.
“Get it together, get it together,” I whispered hoarsely. I couldn’t show up outside Jake’s house until I’d stopped weeping.
He was waiting for me.
He’d cleared out his home gym.
I had a place to go.
Deep breaths. Focus on Jake.
“The fuck? Why on earth would you crash at the office? Y’all are stayin’ with me, end of fuckin’ story. I already talked to Nikki and everythin’. We have plenty of room. You stay until…you know. Whatever. I’ll move my gym equipment to the garage.”
He’d left “until you find a place” unsaid.
Just like I had avoided “I guess I should contact a Realtor” by saying “Ugh, I’ll just crash at the office for a while.” I literally would’ve done it too. We had a playroom there for the kids, after all. They’d be set, sort of. But I was pretty sure Jake and I wanted the same thing. We missed living together like we used to back in the day. Just him, me, and Colin.
I sniffled and let out a long breath.
Could my sob-fest please be over now?
I was wasting my night with Jake. He had picked up food-truck dishes, and we were gonna couch-potato ourselves through the evening on our own. Nikki had Colin and Sam over Thanksgiving, and they were with her family in Spokane.
That was another thing Sandra and I had to divide, our holidays. I had quickly and selfishly requested this Christmas because it meant Jake and I would share the same holidays, regardless of how flexible he and Nikki were. This year, they were doing it up big at Jake’s house on Christmas Eve, with everyone invited for dinner and games. Jake had the morning of Christmas Day with the children, before they went over to Nikki and Russell’s for brunch and more gifts.
I wanted to be a part of that.
Sandra wouldn’t be so easy. She’d given me Christmas in exchange for Thanksgiving and Casper’s next birthday. The last one sucked, but I had a year to get used to the idea—and to get creative. It was all part of being divorced, right? Celebrating holidays on different dates and the kids sometimes getting two of something.
I closed my eyes and scrubbed my hands over my face.
Okay, nearly there. No more tears streaming down.
I supposed, in the end, the holidays didn’t matter as much as all the days in between.
We’d work things out. We had to.
The worst was over for me. Now I had to get my shit in gear and be there for Jake. He was getting increasingly anxious about his upcoming trip to Norfolk. He hadn’t bought the tickets yet, but he’d pushed himself to go before we were off to Alaska at the end of January.
When my phone vibrated in my pocket, I knew it was time to go.
A text from Jake.