Total pages in book: 156
Estimated words: 151044 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 755(@200wpm)___ 604(@250wpm)___ 503(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 151044 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 755(@200wpm)___ 604(@250wpm)___ 503(@300wpm)
But none of that mattered. Every negative preconception I held about this man vanished the moment he wrapped his arms around me and all was forgiven. My entire life, every monumental moment, faded to make space for this.
When we released each other we both had tears in our eyes.
He glanced at the table and laughed as if we both forgot we were standing in the middle of a restaurant. “Here.” He rushed to pull out my chair. “Sit. How was the drive? Did you have any trouble?”
Such a perfectly dad thing to ask. “No. No trouble.” I stowed my purse under the table. “I, uh, had a driver.”
“Oh.” He frowned then nodded. “All the way from the city?”
“It’s a…private service.” I didn’t know how to explain Marty so I moved on. “Are you far from here?”
“About forty-five minutes.”
That surprised me. “We could have picked a place closer to you—”
“Nonsense. This place is nice. I like their desserts.”
I smiled. I liked desserts too. Was that something I’d inherited from him? My mom always picked a salty chip over a sweet. But I was all about the sugary goodness.
A waitress appeared and filled up our waters. My hands were shaking so I folded them in my lap.
“Our lunch specials today are a braised…” She recited a few options. I missed every single one.
“I think we need a few minutes,” my dad said and the waitress nodded and left us alone. “I can’t get over how much you look like your mom.”
“She says I look like you.”
He grinned. “The green eyes and dark hair, sure. But you’ve got your mom’s face.” He chuckled. “Good thing, too, because it’s not easy pulling off a mug like this.” He pointed a stubby finger at his crooked nose. “You gotta have character.”
And he did. In just a few words I could tell he was an easygoing guy who could talk to anyone.
I had so many questions a traffic jam formed in my brain and not a single one could get out. Why did he leave? Why did he stop calling and writing? How did he get that divot of a scar on his cheek? What was he doing on April fourth?
I drank my water, wondering what was appropriate to ask and what might scare him off. I couldn’t believe I was sitting across from him.
“So, tell me about this fella you’re marrying. Good guy?”
Of course Hale would be the perfect subject. I grinned, fluent on the topic and certain I could talk for days about all the reasons I loved my future husband. “Hale’s…perfect.”
“Perfect, eh?” He whistled and the cartoon-like sound made me laugh. “I didn’t know they made men that way.”
“Oh, don’t get me wrong. He can be a gigantic pain in the ass. We’re complete opposites, so our life is certainly interesting. Hale’s a neat-freak and compulsively prepared. He hates disorder and is never late.”
“And you?”
“I’m the extreme opposite.”
He smirked and I noticed the wide gap in his front teeth. More character. “Yeah, sometimes love works out that way.”
“Somehow, Hale puts up with my calamities and never loses patience with me.”
“Do you push him? It’s important for a man to feel challenged.”
“Oh, I’m definitely challenging.” I smiled. “We, uh, have a daughter.”
His face fell. “You’re a mother?”
“Stepmother. Well, soon to be. She’s Hale’s—from a previous relationship. But I’ve been in Elara’s life since the day she was born. Her biological mom’s out of the picture. Do you want to see photos?”
“I’d love to.”
I pulled out my phone and went to this Sunday’s photo dump. I always took a ton of pictures whenever I left town for more than a day. My heart instantly lightened when I saw her chubby cheeks and smiling face.
I handed him my phone. “Swipe left.”
He scrolled for a while and chuckled at a few. “Where are these taken? I see palm trees.”
“That’s at our house in Key West.”
“You live all the way down there? What made you get married in New York?”
I didn’t remember telling him about New York, but we exchanged so many messages over the past few days I might have dropped it into conversation. “Hale wanted a big, traditional ceremony but at a destination everyone could get to.”
He handed me back my phone. “Looks like you’ve got some life, kiddo.”
Kiddo…
I’d forgotten how he used to call me that in his cards and sporadic phone calls. It was strange how so much of this was brand new, but there were little hints of familiarity, like the way he cleared his throat every few minutes and dropped the Rs at the end of words.
The waitress returned and we both ordered a cocktail. A margarita on the rocks for me and a Jack and Coke for him. When the waitress left, we opened up the menus.
“What do you like to eat?” he asked, perusing the options.