Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 91683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
It’s late and we’re driving out to the Hamptons house to start our Fun-Filled, Memorable, Definitely-Not-A-Bad-Idea Summer Vacation. I wanted to get on the road earlier, but with our last-minute change of plans, Harper and I had to spend the day running around the city, grabbing everything we need for our new summer destination. No more jackets and hiking boots; bring on the sunscreen, bathing suits, and flip-flops. After we’d packed up the car, naturally, it was time for dinner. Harper insisted we have one last meal in the city, so we got takeout from our favorite Chinese food restaurant down the block. By the time we set off, it was close to 8:00 PM. Bumper-to-bumper traffic means we’ll pull up to the house well past Harper’s bedtime. Hell, past my bedtime too.
I reach back over the center console and give her knee a reassuring squeeze.
“Hey, the house will be just fine once they fix the water damage, and we’ll still have a fun summer together. Just…at the beach instead of the mountains.”
Harper sniffs and nods. I know she’s just tired, so I turn up her favorite music to help get us through the last few miles of the drive. Today, it’s Taylor Swift. Apparently, she’s “over JoJo,” so I guess I’ll be reselling those concert tickets online.
We stay on the highway and pass Shinnecock Hills, Tuckahoe, Southampton, and Water Mill before we make it to Bridgehampton and turn right onto Ocean Drive.
The last time I was here was to celebrate my mom’s 60th birthday with the family. We spent a week lying low, playing board games, swimming, and grilling. Then the weekend took a turn when Tate accidentally booked a stripper to entertain us during the actual party.
“I thought I was hiring a magician!”
“Lady, just say the word, and I bet I can make those panties disappear.”
My dad just about lost it.
My mom, not so much.
“Well he’s already here. Why don’t we let the nice man do his show?”
The memory makes me laugh. Trying to explain that one to Harper was a real trip.
That was two years ago, and I haven’t had the time to make it back since, not with my MLB schedule.
The house hasn’t changed though. In my absence, it’s remained as impressive as always. It’s a quintessential shingle-style mansion with large windows and an expansive porch sitting on five acres and boasting all the amenities anyone could ever want. It’s just a golf cart ride away from the beach, and more important than that, it’s nice and secluded from the surrounding neighbors. Hedgerows and trees make it feel like we’re the only ones around for miles. I was never a big Hamptons guy, but I was talked into purchasing the property to help diversify my real estate portfolio, and I don’t regret it. It’s worth twice as much as I paid for it, and Harper loves it here. She’ll remember that when she’s not so tired.
She’s out cold in the back seat, head tilted at a weird angle, drool dribbling down her cheek. I park and kill the engine; she doesn’t stir one bit. I’ll come back for the bags later. For now, I unbuckle her gently, lifting her up into my arms so I can carry her inside the house. It takes me a second at the door to fumble for my keys in my back pocket without jostling Harper too much, but it’s easy enough. She’s still light as a feather. Holding her like this reminds me of those baby and toddler days, the chance to get to be close to her whenever I wanted. She still likes to cuddle, especially if I’m reading to her, but every day she grows a bit more independent, a little less inclined to want daddy hugs. It kills me. I’m squeezing her tighter without realizing it, and she stirs in my arms.
Inside, I carry her down the hall toward her bedroom and get her all tucked in. Shoes off, blankets covering her up to her chin. I’ll worry about pajamas tomorrow.
I turn on the white noise machine on her bedside table and make sure the blackout curtains are pulled closed. The desire to let myself plop down right beside her on the bed is almost overwhelming. Instead, I head back out to my SUV to unload. I’ll regret it in the morning if I don’t get all our crap inside. Harper brought four huge bags, and only one is filled with clothes. The other three are filled with “things she can’t live without”: an array of stuffed animals and Barbies, a whole bunch of art supplies, a seemingly random assortment of throw pillows from our living room. I realize now I probably should have supervised her packing a little more closely.
I drop her bags outside her door, listen for a moment to confirm she’s still out cold, and then head for the room a ways down the hall. There’s a palatial primary suite on the second story overlooking the grounds and the pond out back, but I don’t like being that far away from Harper. I prefer sleeping in a room down here. It’s just as nice as the primary suite, just smaller.