Total pages in book: 183
Estimated words: 178343 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 892(@200wpm)___ 713(@250wpm)___ 594(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 178343 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 892(@200wpm)___ 713(@250wpm)___ 594(@300wpm)
I’m taking her willingness to do this today as a positive sign.
A light dusting of snow lies on the ground and Violet’s eyes light up as she heads directly toward a cluster of trees beyond the house.
I watch her approach as I unlock the garage so I can grab the axe. She’s got her red ski jacket on with baby blue mittens on her hands and a cute matching hat with a big white pom-pom bouncing on her head.
After fetching an axe, rope, and bungee cords, I catch up to her.
“This one?” I gesture to the Nordmann fir that’s about seven feet tall and perfectly shaped.
“Wait. Um… do you have to cut it down?” She eyes my axe with alarm.
“Isn’t that the point?”
“Couldn’t we, well … pot it, bring it, and then bring it back when we’re done?”
I scratch my head. “Not without a whole lot of planning and tools that I don’t have at my disposal.”
“Oh,” she whispers.
“What’s wrong?”
“Just…” She shrugs. “Look how pretty it is with all that snow on it and it smells so…” she inhales the air. “So Christmassy and I don’t wanna k-kill it. God, why am I getting emotional about this?” Her eyes are moist.
She looks at me with what I think is embarrassment.
I tilt my head and regard her for a minute. She pulls her glossed pink lips tight.
“So, we’ll go buy a fake one,” I say with a shrug of my own.
Her mouth drops open.
“Okay?” I check.
She shakes her head. “Can we buy a real one that’s already been cut? Then we haven’t done the cutting. We’re just giving it a good home. And our home will smell like Christmas.”
“Whatever you want, baby.” I smile at her.
“Sorry to make you drive all the way here.” She dabs her eyes with the tips of her mittens.
“It’s fine.”
“It’s ridiculous,” she corrects. “I’m glad you find my ridiculousness so amusing. This has to be pregnancy hormones getting me all up in my feelings.”
I chuckle and pull her to me. “We need the boxes of ornaments. And it was a nice drive.”
“It was,” she says softly, wrapping her arms around my waist. And I soak it in, because it feels amazing that she’s tucked close to me like this, not pulling away.
We stare at the tree for a minute.
“It’s a nice tree,” I say.
She nods. “Thanks for not being mad.”
“Huh?”
“If that was him and I did this, he’d have lost it on me.”
“I’m not him.”
“I know,” she says softly.
I tag her hand and hold it walking back toward the garage. After putting the axe inside and locking up, I start up my SUV.
She’s eying the house like it’s gonna bite her.
Maybe I should sell it.
“Wait inside the car. Get warm and I’ll go get those boxes.” I open the passenger door.
“I have to pee again,” she says, still eyeballing the house.
I shut the car door while I disarm the alarm on the app on my phone and tag her hand, heading for the door.
“New alarm system,” she mutters, eyes on my screen.
“Yeah,” I say. “Cameras at each exit, set up on my phone. Couple inside, too. Remember that kid that delivered the groceries the first time you came?”
“Yeah.”
“He and his friends were partying here while we were in Italy. Broke in.”
Her eyes go wide. “You never said.”
“I know. Tony caught ‘em. Scared the shit out of them. The new system was a necessity.”
“What about the cameras at home? They’re on your phone, too, right?”
I hesitate. “Yes.”
“Still?”
“Yeah.”
“Where?” she asks, warily.
“Kitchen. As you know. One pointing at the living space. Our room. Guest room.”
She flinches.
I continue, talking fast. “Left in for safety. Purely for safety. I’ll put the apps on your phone, too. You can access whatever I do.”
“Do they record stuff?”
“Here? Motion detected here, yeah. Motion triggers a recording event. At home, no. That’s an option but I’ve turned it off. At home I have to look in to see what’s happening, but nothing gets recorded unless I hit a button.”
“You have audio and visual at home,” she says instead of asks.
“Yeah,” I confirm. “Baby, I’ve recorded and shared nothing visually from home here except that heavily edited kitchen counter-”
“I have to pee.”
“Okay,” I say. She wants to drop the subject.
I unlock the door and open it for her.
She storms ahead of me and I head for the hall leading off the back side of the kitchen where we stowed all Violet’s extra boxes from her old place.
I’m making my second trip when she merges with me heading to where the boxes are.
I glance at her and can see she’s on fire about this still.
“When was the last time you eavesdropped on me in the apartment?” she demands.
I heft a box into my arms and head for the door. She follows.
“You’re not gonna like it.”
Her nostrils flare and she huffs, scorching me with a glare.