Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 97185 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 486(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97185 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 486(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
“Yeah. I’d appreciate that. Thanks.”
I got off the phone and began the nightly struggle to convince a child to shower and prepare for bedtime. Once Tisha was in the bathroom, I pulled out my phone again and saw a text from Shayna letting me know the route was clear.
I dialed Otto.
“Hey. You running late? Did something come up?” he asked in a kind voice when he answered. Something about the automatic trust and understanding in his tone made my eyes sting.
“Jolie isn’t home yet. I can’t leave Tish.”
There was silence for a few beats before a light chuckle. “She’s playing you.”
“I know. At least, I hope that’s all it is. In my line of work, that’s not usually the first thing that pops in one’s head, you know?”
“Of course I do. I’m in a similar line of work, Seth.”
I blew out a breath. “I know. I’m sorry. I’m just…”
“Annoyed? Pissed? Homicidal?”
“Um…”
Otto sighed. “Sorry, Walker. Maybe I’m projecting. I’m the one who’s annoyed. I was really looking forward to seeing you tonight.”
“Me too. I… I…” For some damned reason I was feeling teary-eyed like some kind of hormonal kid. “I just need to see you, Wilde Man.”
The last part came out in more of a whimper than I’d intended.
“I’m coming over,” he grumbled. “Fuck her. If she’s going to play this game, then fuck her, Seth.”
“You don’t have to do that. I didn’t mean to lay this shit on you. I just needed to let you know what was going on.”
“Baby, if we’re going to do this, you’d better plan on laying this kind of shit on me. That’s my fucking job, Seth Walker. I’ll see you in ten minutes.”
I hung up the phone and held it to my chest. God, he was a good man. How the hell was he able to be so open with me after everything I’d done to him?
After a couple of minutes, Tisha came out in her pajamas and asked me to braid her wet hair. I sat her down on the footstool in front of the sofa and began to comb out her long tresses.
“Where’s Mom?” she asked. “I thought her job with Granddad finished before dinner.”
“I’m not sure, hon. Maybe she had to stay late her first day.”
I divided her hair into three sections and began braiding. She knew how much I loved playing with her hair since I’d never had long hair of my own. Growing up, I’d had buzzed short hair because of the Texas heat and then when I got to Minnesota, it wasn’t long before I was applying to the police academy and keeping it short according to regulations as a newbie on the force. When Tisha came along and sprouted the same pretty long hair her mother had, it was like having my very own Barbie doll. I learned how to spray detangler, blow it dry with a big round brush, and do ponytails and braids with the best of them. Jolie teased me all the time about my beauty shop skills.
“Did you ask Granddad if I could get a pony?” she asked.
I couldn’t help but laugh. “Tish, it’s not up to Granddad to decide whether or not you get a horse. It’s up to your mom and me. And we need some time to settle in here before making such a big commitment. You know I’m moving to my own house this weekend, remember? That means it would be harder for me to help do all the work involved in keeping a horse.”
“Why do you have to move? You could stay here and we could get a horse instead,” she pleaded.
“I told you already. Your mom and I only agreed to live together when you were a little baby and needed lots of help around the clock. Now that you’re a big girl and can do so much for yourself, it’s time for your mom and me to give each other some space. Your mom might want to meet and date a nice man, and I might want to do the same.”
“But I still don’t understand why you can’t just keep each other instead? You already have a wife. Why do you have to find somebody else?”
I took a breath and tried to think about how to help her understand. We’d explained it several times, but I understood it wasn’t easy for an almost-nine-year-old to grasp the concepts of sexuality and lifetime commitments.
“Honey, you know your mom and I have never been in love like that. Your mom was in love with my brother, your dad, but then he died. I only moved in to help with money and loving on you as much as I can. But your mom deserves to have a proper husband, one who loves her the way my brother did.”
“But you love her. You tell her all the time,” she said with a whine.