Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 76541 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76541 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
My eyebrows shoot up so high and fast that Hannah laughs.
“Relax,” she croons with a jab to my ribs. “At her age, all women are princesses and they get swept up by their true love and get married. She doesn’t understand what dating is, but she’s a smart girl. She’ll figure it out.”
I lean over and give her a kiss on her neck. “So we’ll definitely play it cool.”
“No hot kissing or heavy petting in her presence,” she says with a glitter in her eyes.
“I’ll follow your lead,” I mutter dryly.
“Welcome to ‘dating a single mom’.”
“I’m up for the challenge,” I warn.
She gives me a warm smile. “I’m glad.”
Grabbing her empty box, Hannah carries it into the living room where she breaks it down and lays it on a pile of flattened cardboard we’d started.
“I’m going to go look for the box that has all the sheets so I can make the beds,” she informs me. “It’s going to be time for Hope’s bedtime soon.”
I nod. “Go. I can finish the kitchen. And maybe after Hope falls asleep, we can fool around?”
“Damn right we will,” she replies tartly, then blows me a kiss before disappearing down the hall.
I finish the box of dishes and move on to one containing glassware. I’m halfway through when Hope comes in, glancing at me shyly. The night I took her and her mom trick or treating, she’d warmed up to me significantly, fueled by the magical excitement of the evening and tons of candy.
But today, it’s kind of starting over again, and we’ve never talked by ourselves. Frankly, I’m a bit terrified because if the kid hates me, Hannah and I are done. I know enough about her as a mother that it must work out between me and Hope if it’s going to work out between me and Hannah.
I’ve figured it out these last few weeks, and I absolutely want to see where this goes with her.
I decide to face the situation. Try to develop a rapport with her child. “Need any help with the iPad?” I ask Hope as she walks to the fridge and opens it.
“No,” she says in a lilting voice. “Mom won’t let me buy stuff on there.”
That conversation falls flat. But because I’m an entrepreneur and I got my successes from diving right into the deep end, plus flexing the power of money, I decide to take the same tact with Hope.
“What are some of the fun things around here that you might like to do?” I ask. “Maybe I can take you and your mom somewhere next weekend.”
She shrugs and pulls a bottle of water out of the fridge, which is all that’s in there except for a pizza box with the two slices that were left from our dinner.
“How about the Hoover Dam?” I suggest.
Another shrug, but definitely a slight wrinkle to her nose at the suggestion.
“Hiking?”
She shakes her head.
“A hockey game?” I suggest.
Another shrug with enough disinterest in her expression to tell me I’m completely on the wrong path.
I have a slight moment of panic that maybe I can’t do this, but then it strikes me. “How about Disneyland? Ever been there?”
This time, Hope’s eyes widen and sparkle with excitement. “Really?”
“Sure,” I say with a casual smile. It would be an easy weekend trip to Anaheim.
But just as quickly, Hope’s face clouds over. “My dad always had a girlfriend around, and he never paid attention to me.”
Something about that strikes deep because I can relate in a way. My dad was wrapped up in business and pretty much ignored me and Christina for much of our formative years. Luckily, I had a wonderful mother who more than made up for it, so I know in that way Hope can relate.
I kneel in front of her, get eye to eye. “Your mother loves you more than anything on this earth, and that will never happen. You will always be first with her. I’m okay with that, just so you know. Okay?”
She nods, looking a bit flustered.
“I’ll never take her away from you. I respect you and your mom too much to do that. And if you don’t want me along, you tell your mom and she’ll respect that, too.”
Hope considers what I said, and then dips her head to look at me shyly. “I think you should come to Disneyland with us, though.”
I laugh, because she doesn’t understand she’s not going to be able to go without me since I’d be paying for it. But I keep that to myself because she never needs to know that. Instead, I extend my fist out for her to bump. She curls her tiny hand and taps it against mine.
Hannah bustles into the living room, looks at us over the island that separates it from the kitchen, and dumps more cardboard. I stand up, and she arches an eyebrow.