Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 77842 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77842 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Letting go of me, he sighs, his demeanor snuffing into the gentleman I know. He presses his lips to my forehead.
“Let’s go downstairs before she comes back out,” he insists, taking me by the shoulders and turning me around. The fact he respects my wishes and what’s best for Paige is not lost on me.
We head down the stairs holding hands while he adjusts his shirt with his free hand, putting it back to normal, and stops at the door. He looks back at me, his eyes hooded, and says, “See you tomorrow, Rain.”
The door shuts behind him. I drop my head into my hands, and I can’t help but grin like a damn fool while feeling like a damn fool. Nothing has gone as planned with Heston. I wanted to get to know each other more, spend time together, go slow—especially considering I haven’t been with another man in years.
Fate seems to be laughing at my plans right now.
Waking up the next morning, I grab my phone from the nightstand. Yawning and trying to wake up, I find three missed texts from Heston and one from Cam.
I read Heston’s first.
He’s up thinking about me. 2:38 a.m.
He wants to come over today. 6:20 a.m.
My cheeks warm. How is this happening? Where did this guy come from?
I text back get your ass over here, then turn my focus to Cam’s text. He’s coming over to get Paige this morning and wants to know why she isn’t answering her phone.
Biting my thumbnail in thought, I know I’m going to have to tell him about Paige drinking with the neighbor girl and that I took her phone away as punishment. However, I’ll be giving it back to her while she’s at her dad’s, in case she needs to get ahold of me. He’s left her at his house and came back angry drunk too many times for me to fully trust him. Climbing out of bed, the sun splits across the floor. It never did that at our apartment. There were too many buildings blocking the sun from doing what it does best. Taking off last night’s clothes, the ones that I slept in as well, because they smelled like Heston, I slip on my favorite pair of lightweight cotton shorts and a white shirt. Today, I’ll keep it simple and comfortable. My hair, however, is another story. I slip my fingers through my curly tresses, attempting to tame them. I’m surprised it’s silky and not tangled or oily. I guess I’ll leave it down. For now.
Heading out of my room, I don’t hear Paige awake yet. If I let her, she’ll sleep all day. I jog up the stairs and knock on her door a couple times before opening it. She’s lying halfway on her bed, the other half hanging at the end of the mattress, reading a book placed on the floor. She’s still in her pajamas, and her hair is a clumpy mess from falling asleep in her braids.
“Your dad is coming, get ready.”
She inhales audibly and slides off the bed, annoyance clear on her face.
The stairs creak and crack beneath my feet as I walk down them, making me nervous one might break from under me. Making a safe landing, I go into the kitchen, start some coffee, and grab a muffin from the cupboard. I peel the paper liner away and sink my teeth into it. Banana nut is my favorite. My eyes land on the dirty dishes in the sink from last night’s dinner, and a brazen smile spreads across my face. I can still smell him on my skin this morning. I wonder if that will happen again today…Wait, Paige will be at her dad’s for the night. I’ll have Heston here. Alone.
11
Footsteps stomp down the stairway, and Paige comes into the living room before with her arms crossed and her face blank. It’s the guess-what-mood-I’m-in teenager game.
“What’s wrong?” I ask with a shrug of the shoulder, cramming the rest of my muffin into my mouth, little crumbs coat my fingers, and I wipe my hands free of them over the sink, waiting for her to answer me.
“So, can I have my phone back? I mean, I’m going to Dad’s, and sometimes he—” she stops herself and glances down at her feet, embarrassment or hurt shadowing her posture like a heavy storm lurking within dark clouds on a perfect summer day. I hate that I have to share custody with Cam—especially when said child is more of an adult than he is. But there’s nothing I can do when the judge doesn’t see that side of him. Turning around, I grab a vase and reach in. I slip the phone out and hold it toward her.
“Really, a vase?” She tries to sound angry, biting back a smile. She was probably up looking for the phone all night and never thought of the vase.