Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 89224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Figuring I’ve put off the inevitable long enough, I dial Hazel’s number and listen to it ring. We haven’t spoken much in the last few days, and when we have talked, it’s been when she’s called Winter’s iPad and I’ve been in the room. And each time, I’ve made sure we only talk about stuff pertaining to Winter, nothing outside of that topic.
“Hey, is everything okay?” she answers, surprise lacing her tone.
“Everything is fine, and Winter is good, but you’re gonna want to sit down.”
“Oh God, what did she do?”
“She decided to cut her own hair.”
“Oh no,” she whispers. “I knew she was thinking that.”
“Did you?”
“Yes. When I told her no, she got that same stubborn look on her face that you get when you don’t get your way.”
“Maybe you could have warned me, so I could’ve hidden the scissors,” I mutter, and she laughs.
“Sorry, I didn’t think she’d actually do it.”
“Well, she did. Emma is attempting to fix it now.”
“Oh, you didn’t ask Miranda?”
“Emma and I had plans, so she came over,” I say then wonder why the fuck I’m explaining myself.
“You have plans with Emma? I thought you were making pizzas with Miranda and Tucker?” The weight of her questions makes me regret saying anything. But I know Winter will likely mention it at some point, and I’m not asking my daughter to lie.
I also don’t see the reason I should lie.
“No, Winter is going to make pizzas. Emma and I are going out to dinner.”
“So, you’re dating her?”
“Hazel.”
“Fine,” she mutters, then goes quiet for a moment before asking, “Will you have Winter call me when she’s finished, so I can see her hair?”
“Yeah, but take it easy on her. She’s worried you’re going to be mad.”
“I’m disappointed she didn’t listen.” She sighs. “But I shouldn’t have just told her ‘no’ like I did without having a conversation about it. I keep forgetting she’s getting older and that she’s going to have her own opinions about her style.”
“We’re all learning.”
“Yeah,” she agrees quietly. “I’ll talk with you later. Have a good night.”
“You too.” I hang up after saying goodbye, then head back to the bathroom, feeling a little better about that call than the others we’ve had recently. Not that it went spectacularly but it was better than it could have been. And as much as I don’t like it, I can understand why this situation with Emma is weird for Hazel. I haven’t dated—or I have, just no one she’s heard about—so she’s never had to think about Winter spending time with another woman. I just hope we can get back to the place we were before.
I find the girls exactly where I left them, only Winter’s hair is now much shorter than it was, and the cut looks adorable on her.
“How’s it going?” I ask, leaning against the doorframe.
“Good, we’re just about done,” Emma says, stepping away from Winter to plug in a flat iron.
“Win, your mom wants you to call her when you’re finished.”
“Is she mad?”
“No, she’s disappointed.”
“Great.” She sighs, and Emma shoots me a small smile.
It takes a lot less time for Emma to style her hair than it did this afternoon. Then again, there is a lot less to work with. When she’s finished, Winter gets down from the seat and goes to her step by the sink so she can look in the mirror above it.
“What do you think?” Emma asks, walking over to join her.
“I love it.” She turns on the step stool, wrapping her arms around her. “Thank you, Emma.”
“You’re welcome,” she says softly, then Winter’s gaze comes to me.
“I’m sorry, Daddy.”
“It’s okay. Go change and then call your mom real quick so you can get next door. They’re waiting for you to make pizzas.”
“Okay.” She stops to give me a hug before walking out the door, I step farther into the room and close the distance between Emma and me.
“Thanks for saving the day once again.”
“Any time.” She tips her head to the side. “Any luck finding a restaurant?”
“None. How do you feel about ordering takeout and hanging here?”
“Oh.” She shifts on her heels like she’s suddenly nervous.
“Are you afraid of being alone with me?”
“Should I be?”
“Maybe.” I grin, and she smacks my chest. Capturing her wrist before she can pull her hand away, I drag her a step closer to me. “What do you want to eat?”
“Whatever you want.”
“Whatever I want?” I raise a brow, and her cheeks tinge with pink. The sight makes my dick press against my zipper.
“Maybe we should go have pizza with everyone,” she whispers.
“Not fucking happening.” I drop my eyes to her mouth, and she leans in like she wants me to kiss her.
And if Winter didn’t choose that moment to come back into the bathroom to put her clothes in her hamper… I would have.