Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 61746 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 309(@200wpm)___ 247(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61746 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 309(@200wpm)___ 247(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
“You’re amazing,” I said sincerely as our eyes met. I realized just how close we were since we were both leaning on the center console, only inches separating us. His smoky-sweet cologne rolled over me, threatening to draw me in closer and closer.
Marcus’s eyes slipped down to my lips, his head starting to tilt slightly.
Any remnant of control or common sense I had evaporated just from that motion. I started to lean forward to close the distance, lost in the trance of his kindness and sexiness, until I heard Chloe stir in the backseat. I pulled back, my heart skipping when I realized I’d almost kissed him.
“Thank you,” I told Marcus again before getting out of the car and grabbing Chloe and her backpack from the backseat. I shut the door behind me and headed up to the porch, holding Chloe with one hand and unlocking the front door with the other.
By the time I got the door open and glanced over my shoulder, Marcus was gone.
Chapter 6
Madison
Despite a week passing, Chloe was still sick with the flu, and I was barely dragging myself through the days.
I had been swamped at work, being thrown on shifts that I wasn’t used to working and having to deal with grumpy, rude customers on top of being exhausted and stressed about my sick child and money.
No matter what, I would make sure that my daughter was cared for, even if the medicine she needed cost more than I expected.
As a mother, I had to make things work. Half the time, I felt like some sort of magician, having to beat the odds and play cards from under my sleeve to get by some weeks. I loved Chloe enough to do it over and over again, but I hoped that I could make our lives easier and better. It seemed like an uphill battle, but I was ready for the climb.
“Mom,” a groan sounded from Chloe’s bedroom.
I stopped wiping down the kitchen counter and quickly headed down the hallway to her bedroom, my socked feet gliding along the hardwood floor.
“What is it, baby?” I asked as I stepped into her bedroom, which was a testament to her love of various hobbies or obsessions. Her bedsheets were white with an array of different colored unicorns spread across it, her desk was full of art supplies, her toy box was overfilling with animal figurines and dolls, and her light pink walls were covered with a range of posters from Powerpuff Girls to a map of the world.
Chloe laid under her sheets with a pitiful pout on her face, which had less color than usual, especially her usually rosy cheeks. She squished her stuffed llama doll against her side as her hair rested on her shoulder in a side braid.
“My throat hurts,” she whined, her voice sounding hoarse.
Seeing her like this and having done all I could for her made my heart ache. There was no worse feeling as a mother than feeling useless.
“I know, baby. I can give you some more medicine in an hour, okay? Do you want some chicken noodle soup?” I asked as I approached her bedside, reaching out to place my hand on her forehead to feel how warm and clammy her skin felt. Last I checked, she was running a temperature of 100.5, and I checked every hour to monitor her.
Thankfully, my mom was able to come over and look after her while I was at work, and she made sure to come in with a mask and gloves on to keep herself from getting sick and spreading it to any of her friends she met up with for coffee or mimosas. There was honestly no telling where Chloe caught the flu from in the first place, but if I had to guess, I would bet it was one of the kids in her class. Kids were cute, but they could be pretty gross too.
Chloe nodded her head before tugging her blanket up to her chin, her eyelids fluttering in a tired manner.
I brushed my fingers through her hair, wanting to bundle her up in my arms and hold her. I hated seeing her like this.
“Get some rest. I’ll come back when the soup is ready,” I told her, hoping that I had at least the bare bone ingredients for soup in the cupboard.
Chloe closed her eyes before breaking into a light cough.
This was torture. I headed to the kitchen to dig around in my pantry and fridge, pulling out whatever I could find to go into the soup. I didn’t have any chicken, but I had chicken broth, which would have to do. Honestly, the healing magic was in the broth with lots of garlic and ginger, which I thankfully had.
As I hunched over the stove to throw all of my ingredients into a pot, a sudden rush of hot tears filled my eyes. All of my stress kept piling onto my shoulders, and my mind slipped to the comfort and happiness I felt around the tattoo artists I had the pleasure of meeting last week. I blinked my eyes rapidly as my eyebrows knitted, surprised that my mind had darted to them.