Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 97667 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97667 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
“No.” No explanation, just a hard no.
“Yes. I don’t know how long I can last, considering your track record, and I don’t want to lose the only dependable job I have. I’m keeping those two shifts.” He blows out an exasperated breath. His grip on the steering wheel tightens.
“Fine,” he says through gritted teeth. Wow, that looked painful. He must be seriously desperate to be agreeing to this.
Pulling up to the ferry terminal, he puts the car in park. I’m ready to jump out and tug on the door handle. It’s locked. Tug, tug, tug. Still locked. My eyes slide over to him. He’s tense. I would even venture to say a little nervous, though I could be mistaken.
“When can I expect you?” Is he planning on holding me hostage until I sign in blood?
“Day after tomorrow.” Now that the decision’s been made, why delay. I get another one of his brief nods. The sound of the doors unlocking prods me into action. Without a backward glance, I’m out in a flash. As I’m slamming the door shut, I hear a quiet, “Thank you.” I’m already walking away when I grasp what he’s said. Whatevs. I’m too tired and broken down to care.
“You have to live with him? But he’s a bachelor.” In confusion, I stare at Angelina across the kitchen table. For a moment, I wonder if she’s being serious. And then I remember. It took a full year for my mother to accept that my living with Matt before we were actually married was not a black stain on the family name. I load two more chicken cutlets onto my plate and dig in.
“I think so. I’m not sure…who cares.” I look at my dad for help. He doesn’t meet my eyes. Coward.
“I care,” she says.
“Don’t worry, my honor is not in jeopardy.” I have to forcibly stop myself from snorting. I have no intention of explaining the animosity between Shaw and me because my mother will somehow spin it as my fault.
“Why do you always have to be so sarcastic?”
“Ma, the house is huge. He probably won’t be there much, these guys travel a lot in the offseason. And there’s an eight year old boy living there as well.” And I intend to stay as far away from him as possible, which shouldn’t be too difficult knowing how he feels about me. That, I keep to myself.
“Have you met the boy yet?” My father finally decides to join the conversation. Welcome to the party, Tom.
“Yes, he’s lovely. Very quiet…shy. His mother’s in rehab.”
My mother’s eyes go butter soft and she tsks. “Poor baby, bring him over for dinner.” My mother is convinced that everything can be fixed with food. I can almost hear her thoughts as she considers what she’ll cook for him.
Angelina has been hounding me for grandchildren since the day Matt and I got married. We always thought we had time…and now I’ve suddenly lost my appetite. I push the baked eggplant around my dish.
Grief is uniquely tailored for every individual. For me, it lies beneath the noise of everyday life, cropping up at unexpected moments. And I’m not talking a gentle nudge either, more like a blindsiding slap across the face…like right now. It just occurred to me that I may never have children and the pain is more than I can bear. Because falling in love again and getting married is so far from the realm of possibilities for me that I can’t imagine any scenario where that could happen.
“Sure,” I grumble. “I have a surprise,” I say desperate to change the subject. My parents look at me with sheer terror in their eyes. “Relax, it’s a good surprise this time.” Suspicion hangs around a little longer. “You’ll be receiving a check from me this week…for a hundred thousand dollars.”
They don’t look happy. You would think a hundred grand would put a smile on their faces.
“What kind of a joke is this?” my mother says.
“It’s not a joke. He’s paying me a hundred thousand up front.”
“To babysit?” she says, her tone riddled with skepticism. I briefly glance at my father and find him as still as a mummy.
“Good grief,” I mutter. Leave it to my mother to suck the joy out of this, too. “To take care of Sam and home school him. I’m a teacher, remember?”
“A hundred thousand,” my father repeats. I finally recognize the expression on his face…it’s relief. He’s relieved that he’ll get his money back. And in that moment, I know I did the right thing accepting Shaw’s offer.
“The job is only for three months.” They both look confused. “I’m assuming Sam will go back to live with him mom when she gets out. He won’t need me after that.”
“A hundred grand for three months work?” dad asks. His voice sounds far away, unmitigated bewilderment in his tone.