Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 102016 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 510(@200wpm)___ 408(@250wpm)___ 340(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102016 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 510(@200wpm)___ 408(@250wpm)___ 340(@300wpm)
“I did them,” Sidney responds with a happy sigh. “I did a bunch before the show, too. I snuck away to come hang out with you guys.”
“We are the most fun,” Blake replies with a laugh. “How can you do what you do? Obviously, you’re in great shape, but you sang and danced for two solid hours, Sidney. What kind of training does that include?”
“When I was gearing up for the world tour,” she begins, “I sang every single song in my catalog while running on the treadmill.”
The whole room rumbles at that.
“You’re kidding,” Alex says.
“No, ma’am. I don’t lip-sync, ever. Now, remember, there are some numbers that I’ll sit on a stool and sing, and that is when I rest. Then, it’s time to move again. It’s rigorous. I have a specific diet and a nutritionist who goes on tour with us because I want to deliver the best show out there. I know that it’s an investment, and I’d be mortified if anyone ever walked away disappointed.”
“I don’t see that happening,” I reply. Holy shit, am I talking to Sidney Sterling? “Your concert has been on my bucket list for years, and this surpassed all my expectations.”
“And that, right there,” Sidney says as she points my way, “is why we do it. Your daughter is adorable, by the way.”
I feel a pang in my heart as I brush my fingers over Birdie’s dark hair. “Thank you, but she’s not mine.”
But, oh, how I wish she was. I don’t think I could love this peanut more if she’d come from my body.
“She fits with you,” Sidney says, and then is pulled into another conversation, and I feel my eyes fill with tears.
“She’s right,” Bee says softly next to me. “Birdie fits with you, and you fit with them.”
I nod and take a deep breath.
“I know.”
It’s been back to regular life since the concert on Saturday night. Some of my kids were a little cranky today in school because they were still tired from the show, so we took it easy in class.
Now that school is out for the day, and all the kids have been picked up, I’m more than ready to go home and get comfortable. In the past couple of weeks, I’ve spent every night at Bridger’s house, and Pickles hasn’t been moved back to my rental.
I go back and forth to get clothes or things I need, but for all intents and purposes, I’m basically living with my boyfriend and his adorable daughter.
And I’m not sad about it.
In fact, it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. When Bridger’s working, I pick Birdie up from her sitter and take her home with me. We have an evening routine down pat already. If Bridger’s home, we cook dinner together and settle into a similar routine.
We make love every night.
I’ve never felt so cherished. Due to my hang-ups and trauma, I’ve never really been in a relationship before, certainly not one that feels so right. As if I was supposed to be here all along. I’ve never felt so comfortable in my own skin either, and I can attribute that to Bridger’s attentive and loving nature. I feel … safe.
There are a few other teachers leaving at the same time as me, and we smile and wave at each other, but it’s raining, coming down in sheets, so we run for our respective cars.
However, once inside of mine, it won’t start.
“Shoot.” I try again, but it doesn’t even try to turn over. With a deep sigh, I lean my head back on the headrest. I don’t want to walk home in this downpour.
Suddenly, someone knocks on my window, and I open the door to find Stephen, a second-grade teacher, frowning at me.
“Won’t start?” he asks.
“No. It’s dead.”
“Come on, I’ll give you a lift.”
“I have my snack tote with me today,” I tell him.
“I have room. I’ll get it for you.” He gestures for me to follow him, waiting with his umbrella as I gather my things and then rush over to his SUV with him. He holds the door open for me as I sit inside, and then he rushes back to my car for the tote and back to his own, stowing it in the back, then walks around to the driver’s side.
Stephen’s a really nice guy. He’s helped me out a lot since I came on staff, not to mention he’s handsome. But he’s never crossed the professional line with me, and I’ve always felt comfortable with him.
“Sorry about this,” I say when he starts his vehicle.
“Don’t be. I’m just sorry that your car is dead in the water.”
“Yeah. I’ll call Brooks when I get home to get a tow to his shop. I’m over on Pine Avenue.”
“Got it,” he says with a nod and pulls out of the parking space. “Did you go to the concert the other night?”