Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 133224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 666(@200wpm)___ 533(@250wpm)___ 444(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 666(@200wpm)___ 533(@250wpm)___ 444(@300wpm)
I’m losing faith that he exists.
Blake
My phone alarm vibrates on the coffee table, and I drag my sleepy eyes open.
Where am I?
Rebecca’s couch. Damn, I must have been tired last night.
I’ve got to get moving. I drag myself up and walk out into the kitchen. Rebecca must still be upstairs; I’ll take her up a cup of coffee before I go.
I’m still feeling guilty about Taryn . . . who could blame Bec if she hates me. I kind of hate myself right now. I make her coffee, wrap my neck in my stupid scarf, and head up the stairs. I walk into her bedroom to see that she’s on her side and still sleeping. I carefully put her coffee down on her side table and sit on the edge of her bed. Her dark hair is splayed across her pillow, and her chest rises and falls as she breathes.
Her long eyelashes flutter across her cheeks, and I smile as I watch her.
So angelic.
I could watch her all day, but I’ve got to get to the hospital. I stand, and as I walk out of her room, I notice a notepad and a pen on the end of her bed. I pick it up and read it.
Attributes I want in a man
He must be:
Hot
Honest
Kind
Sensitive
Caring
Funny
Romantic
Family-oriented
Red flags—Men to avoid
He can’t be:
A liar
A player
A cheater
Cold
Selfish
Controlling
Mean
Nasty
Heartless
If there’s a god out there, please hear my prayer.
Please let me meet a man who is worthy of my love.
I’m losing faith that he exists.
I read and reread the last two lines.
Please let me meet a man who is worthy of my love.
I’m losing faith that he exists.
Sadness fills me.
Her list of attributes she wants in a man . . . I’ve never met anyone who . . .
I sit back down on the side of her bed and watch her for an extended time. My mind is racing with a million thoughts. None of them good.
She doesn’t deserve any of this. She never did.
I want her to be happy. I want her to find the man of her dreams. I want someone to love her as much as she loves them.
I tuck a piece of her hair behind her ear, and I know what I need to do.
I’m going to find her a good man . . . even if it kills me.
Chapter 5
Rebecca
“Pack away your pencils, and then we’re going to do some recorder practice,” I call from my place on the stepladder. I hold the painting up to where I want to hang it, take the thumbtack out of my mouth, and push it into the corner.
Decorating my classroom is my favorite hobby and most definitely an extreme sport.
“Miss Dalton . . . ,” a little voice calls. “Lucy took my pencil sharpener.”
“Lucy,” I call. “Did you accidentally take Carter’s pencil sharpener?”
“No,” Lucy calls.
“Do you want me to check your pencil case for you, just in case?” I ask.
Lucy’s eyes dart around guiltily. “Um . . .”
“Sometimes things accidentally get mixed up,” I say softly. “Don’t they?”
“Yes.” Lucy nods in an overexaggerated way. “I’ll look now.”
I smile and go back to my picture hanging. Kindergarten, the home of cuteness overload and mini kleptomaniacs . . . all accidental, of course.
I love my job; I love every single second of every single day . . . but only in the mornings, of course. Ask me again in the afternoon when I’ve had a day from hell, and I will tell you I’m resigning tomorrow. Five-year-olds and I have a lot in common: our moods change hard and quickly. Good times turn bad in the bat of an eye.
“Oh look, here it is.” Lucy holds the sharpener up as if she’s just won the gold medal.
Carter scowls and snatches it from her. “I knew you had it.”
“Carter . . . what are our classroom values?” I ask him.
Carter rolls his eyes, and his little shoulders slump. “Be kind and understanding,” he mumbles.
“Yes,” I call as I push in the last thumbtack. “That’s right.” I climb down the ladder. “Everyone, grab your recorder and take a seat on the mat, please.” I pull out my desk drawer to grab my music book just as my phone flashes a text. I glance around and then sneakily read the message. It’s from Blake.
We are live, Bambi!
It’s go time.
A surprised giggle escapes me before I quickly hide it. I quickly text back.
OMFG!!!!
I cannot believe we are actually doing this; I throw my phone back into the drawer and take out my music book.
“Let’s go, little people,” I call as I clap my hands. “Everybody sit on the mat.”
Casual as casual can be.
Lunchtime and I’m acting like a spy.
I sit in the lunchroom and discreetly peer at my phone under the table.
Sales: 0
Hmm. I click out of the app.
What if I don’t get any clicks? What if my feet are considered ugly in the world of foot porn?