Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 79898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
“We’re here, baby,” I called over my shoulder as I eased my car into a spot on the street. The U-Haul was already here, blinkers flashing and my dad and Topher scurrying back and forth with boxes and pieces of furniture. People were streaming by on the street and I couldn’t help but grin, already feeling buoyed by the familiar, frantic energy of New York.
“Nice place, sis,” Topher said, raising an eyebrow at me. I followed his gaze to a group of college girls, standing on the corner in short-shorts and halter tops.
“You’re such a perv,” I said, groaning and rolling my eyes.
“I think I’ll come visit. Often,” Topher said, his eyes still glued to the skinny twentysomethings. “Hell, maybe I’ll even move here.”
As I set the last box down in my apartment, I wiped my brow on the back of my arm. It was a mild day out, but I was sweating like a pig from the effort of hauling boxes and furniture. There was no denying it – at thirty-two, I definitely needed to start working out or else I was going to risk getting a gut ... and somehow, with my new gig at HAUTESCENE, I had a feeling that wouldn’t fly at all.
After wiping my sweaty palms on my jeans, I went looking for Ada. The apartment was thankfully big enough for her to have her own bedroom, albeit a small one, and I had plans to decorate it in her favorite colors, pink and mint green. She was sitting on the floor of her room pulling her stuffed toys out of a box and arranging them.
“What’re you doing, love?” I asked as I walked over and squatted down next to her.
Ada turned to me and beamed. She had a great smile, but sometimes it reminded me so much of Nico that it was almost painful.
“Showing them their new home,” she said, enunciating carefully. “They couldn’t breathe in there,” Ada added as she pointed to the moving box with a chubby hand.
I nodded. “Very smart,” I told her. “I’m lucky to have such a considerate daughter!”
Ada yawned. She stretched and then flopped down on her large stuffed bunny, closing her eyes and snuggling close. Watching her was so cute that it always touched my heart and even though I knew I had a ton of stuff to do, I curled up next to her with my head resting on a stuffed raccoon. Soon, Ada was snoring away and I had to tear myself away from her and head into the kitchen.
Topher and my dad were assembling my IKEA furniture – they’d already done the couch and bedframe, and now they were working on the dining room table. I smiled, stifling a yawn of my own as I made for the grocery bags we’d picked up on the way.
“Prosciutto mac and cheese sound good to everyone?” I asked.
“God, I’m fucking starving,” Topher groaned. “I’d eat anything right now.”
My dad looked mildly offended at the swear, but gave me a tired smile.
“Sounds great, hon,” he said. “How is Ada settling in?”
“She’s napping,” I said as I shot Topher a pointed glance. “But I’m sure she’ll get up for dinner.”
As I whipped together my specialty – macaroni and cheese with homemade Gruyere cheese sauce, baked in prosciutto cups that I assembled in a silicone muffin pan – my mind began to wander. I had been so sure that I was doing the right thing – moving to New York, getting a new job, making sure that my daughter and I had our own apartment – but now, I wondered if that was true. Life had been easy in Boston. Not always fun, but easy. Living with my dad again had felt like a comforting balm after what had happened with Nico, and he hadn’t judged me or asked too many questions.
Now it was time to toughen up and make sure that I was doing things right. I knew I could do it, I just had to push through any doubt and uncertainty that came my way.
The four of us ate in mostly silence – not from acrimonious tension or anything, but because we were all so hungry. The dish that normally yielded leftovers barely made enough to feed all of us, even Ada who could be a picky eater.
When we were finished, my dad stood up and yawned. “Let me get this little one off to bed,” he said as he scooped Ada up in his arms. “She’s fading fast.”
“You mind washing her face?” I asked wryly, looking at the dried cheese all over Ada’s chin and mouth.
My dad chuckled. “Not at all.” He carried Ada into the other room and I heard him singing James Taylor to her in the bathroom
“So,” Topher said. “You sure you’re okay?”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “What do you mean?”