Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 100713 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100713 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
“Well, thanks, but I’ve got some crow’s feet and stretch marks that say otherwise,” I said, setting my phone on the table and my purse at my feet.
“I love your braids,” said Blair, seated to my left.
“Thanks.” I laughed nervously, touching the end of one. “I’m teaching Elliott, my son. He loves to do my hair.”
“That’s so cute,” Cheyenne said. “There was a boy in my class last year—I’m a kindergarten teacher—whose favorite thing to do at free time or during recess was style the girls’ hair.” She laughed. “He was running his own little salon in the corner of the playground!”
I smiled. “That’s adorable.”
“I thought so—his dad did not.” Cheyenne wrinkled her nose. “He’s one of those super macho guys who thinks we need to dress boys in pants and girls in dresses. Boys play with trucks and girls play with dolls. Boys are loud, and girls are quiet.”
“That poor kid,” said Bianca with a frown. “Some people don’t deserve to be parents.”
“My ex was kind of like that,” I admitted. “Elliott isn’t a stereotypical boy either. He loves pink and unicorns and occasionally likes to wear dresses. He likes dolls and tea parties and princesses. But he also likes sports and dinosaurs and jeans.”
“But there’s nothing wrong with that,” said Bianca fiercely.
“No, there isn’t,” I agreed. “And Sam, Elliott’s father, might have been able to handle the unicorns and tea parties, but sometimes Elliott would fill out video game profiles on his iPad as a girl. Like it would ask for his gender, and he’d put girl.”
“Why are they even asking that?” Blair shook her head.
I shrugged. “Probably for marketing purposes. But Sam freaked out about it. He said to Elliott, ‘You know you’re a boy. Don’t lie.’ As if it was a matter of dishonesty.”
“What a dick,” said Bianca, her blue eyes narrowing behind her glasses. “Sorry if that’s offensive.”
I shook my head. “It’s the truth.”
“So does Elliott want to be a girl?” Cheyenne asked curiously. “Or does he feel like he is one?”
“Not necessarily,” I said. “I’ve asked him that. He said he likes being a boy, but he likes doing some things that girls get to do—like wear pink or have tea parties. He told me he put girl on that video game profile just for fun. I mean, the kid is six. I think it’s too soon to box him into anything in terms of his identity. I just want him to feel free to be exactly who he is.”
“That’s the kind of mom I want to be too,” said Bianca.
Then I laughed, a little embarrassed that I’d gotten so worked up. We hadn’t even ordered wine yet. “Sorry, ladies. I get emotional about this—not just because of Elliott, but because I was raised by an overbearing mother who pushed me hard to be something she wanted me to be.”
“What was that?” Blair wondered.
“A doctor, because they make a lot of money, and she never wanted me to be dependent on a man, since—her words here—men always break their promises.” I sighed. “I never knew my dad, and she refused to even name him. My guess is that he was married and lied about it, but that’s just a guess.”
“That would definitely explain her opinion about men,” said Cheyenne.
“You didn’t want to be a doctor?” asked Bianca.
“I never felt free to consider what I wanted or didn’t want. Not until my mother died.” I paused. “Which actually led to a complete existential crisis that ended up with me quitting med school in my second year and running off to marry a guy who proved my mother right, but that’s another matter entirely.” I waved a hand in the air. “And I hope it doesn’t sound like Elliott isn’t a happy kid. He’s actually really comfortable with who he is and loves himself almost as much as he loves Beckett’s goats.”
“Oh my God, those goats are so cute, aren’t they?” Bianca grinned. “I’m more of a city girl, but even I think they’re adorable.”
The server came by and took our order, and a few minutes later we each had a glass of wine and a plate of cheese and charcuterie to share.
“So I want to hear about you guys,” I said, after a sip of a cool Michigan white from Cloverleigh Farms. “I’ve known your men pretty much all my life, so it’s really fun for me to hear your stories.”
For the next hour, I heard all about how Blair met Griffin when her car broke down on Main Street, and she was stranded in Bellamy Creek just long enough to steal the gruff mechanic’s heart. All three of them spoke in rapturous voices about Blair and Griffin’s beautiful December wedding—a snowstorm had prevented many guests from attending, including Blair’s family in Tennessee, but the smaller affair turned out to be more intimate and romantic than planned.