Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 78557 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 393(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78557 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 393(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
We spend the afternoon at the science museum, being dragged by Kinsley from exhibit to exhibit. Quinn was right. Her batteries are fully charged, and she’s on a mission to see every single thing available. The only reason we leave is because the museum announces that it’s closing. Kinsley pouts, and Quinn tells her they’ll return again soon.
I offer to take the subway home so she doesn’t have to cross back over the bridge, but she insists on dropping me off. I live in a decent apartment, walking distance to the shop. It has two bedrooms and two baths, and I share it with my best friend and cousin, Declan, who is currently over in Ireland visiting his sister who just had a baby. He’ll be back in a couple weeks.
“That’s me,” I say, pointing to the brick building. “Thank you for letting me crash your day.”
Quinn smiles softly. It’s not much, but I can tell I’m wearing her down slowly. “You live here?” she asks. I can tell she’s curious how I can afford such a nice place when I ink people for a living.
“Yeah, I share the place with my cousin.” I shrug, not bothering to mention I own it outright and he barely pays rent.
“Oh, well, thank you for joining us.”
“I have a soccer game Saturday!” Kinsley says. “You have to come.”
Quinn closes her eyes and shakes her head. “I would tell you that you don’t have to come, but at this point, I feel like a broken record.” She laughs. “It’s at the same park we practiced at today. Nine o’clock. If you can’t make it…or have to work…”
“You’ll understand,” I say, finishing her sentence for her.
“Yeah.”
“Can you step outside for a second?” Quinn gives me a confused look, but opens her door and steps out anyway.
“Bye, Mini-Q,” I say to Kinsley. “I’ll try to make it Saturday.” I don’t want to say I’ll be there and not show up. It’s still six days away, so anything can happen. She waves goodbye, and I get out of the SUV and walk around to Quinn’s side.
“What’s up?”
“I didn’t want to ask you in front of Kinsley…”
“Oh, wow, a man who listens.” She grins playfully. “Thank you.”
“Yeah.” I chuckle softly. “Anyway, I was wondering if I could take you out one day this week.” Quinn’s smile drops, telling me I’m about to be rejected once again. “Or not,” I add to lighten the mood.
“I really enjoyed hanging out with you,” she says, “but I’m a single mom to a five-year-old.”
Running my hand over my beard, I tug on the end, something I tend to do when I’m nervous or frustrated—right now I’m the latter. “I’m aware of all of that,” I tell her. “I just spent the last nine hours with you and her.”
“No, I know.” She groans. “What I meant was…my life is crazy and chaotic on a good day. Take the day you met me for example. I was late, forgot my daughter had a field trip, my sitter was out of town and my back up was sick with the flu. I needed to leave my daughter with my brother and his girlfriend at their tattoo shop, so I could go to the photoshoot, which I was late to. And after I picked up Kinsley, I found out it was the last day to sign her up for soccer.” Her eyes go wide dramatically, reminding me of Kinsley. These two are clearly two peas in a pod. “Can you imagine if I would’ve missed that deadline?” I laugh, but don’t say anything, letting her finish what she needs to say.
“I raced all over town, signing her up and taking her to get shin guards and a soccer ball.”
“You’re a good mom,” I tell her. I’m not sure why, but I just felt like she needed to know that.
“Thank you,” she says warmly. “But part of being a good mom is putting my daughter first.”
“That excuse sucks,” I say honestly.
“Maybe, but it’s only part of it.”
“What’s the other part?”
“I’m almost forty, and you’re twenty-seven. You’re a single guy with no kids, no strings. I’m a single mom with a child who has an eight o’clock bedtime.”
“So what?” This woman has every excuse in the book, and if I thought they were being slung at me because she really doesn’t like me, I would give up. But my gut is telling me they’re being used as a shield because she’s scared.
“What did you do last Saturday night?” she asks.
“Played poker at Gage’s place.”
“Exactly. You know what I did? I watched The Little Mermaid for the hundredth time, baked cookies, then after putting my daughter to bed, spent the rest of the evening cleaning up, taking a bath, and working on some edits before falling asleep only two pages into the book I’m reading.”