Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 114192 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114192 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
My inhale is shaky, but I nod as fast as I can. My instinct is to hug him, to wrap my arms around his shoulders and bury my head in his chest, but instead I hold my hands together in front of me. “Yeah, friends.”
Robert’s expression softens with understanding. “You love him, don’t you? Like really love him.”
I nod, trying to blink away the flood of tears and not making it. “I love him so much I’m scared.”
My first love opens his arms wide. It’s a sweet, simple gesture, and I take it like a lifeline, holding him like I wanted to just a moment ago. I wrap my arms around Robert’s waist and my body melts into the familiar touch. I needed this. Dear God, I needed this.
“I think he’s an all right guy, Mags,” he murmurs into my hair. With my eyes closed tight, I let him go. I want to tell him I think Brody’s perfect for me, but I don’t say a word.
“Promise we’ll stay friends?”
I can’t give up the love I have with Brody, but in the same way, I can’t give up Robert’s place in my life, either. He’s family to me. He’s been family even when things got complicated and hard. That makes him Bridget’s family too. I’m not about to start taking people away from her, or from me. It would hurt too much, and be for nothing. We’re not college kids anymore. We can handle this, because it’s what we both need.
“Always,” I tell him. And I mean that too.
BRODY
As a kid, you just don’t know how much the simple things in life are going to matter. Makes them seem a lot less simple. Nothing’s very complicated about Bridget at the playground. I’m guessing most kids want to swing on the swings and climb up the steps. But damn is there something different about seeing it as her dad. She grins at me constantly, the breeze ruffling her hair. I push away every thought of regret from not getting Magnolia’s number on that night four years ago, and drink it in.
These are the small moments I’ve been missing, but I’m not going to miss them anymore.
Tiny little fists grip the chains on the swing and Bridget asks me to push her. I keep things gentle and calm. I remember flying up practically into the sky, but hell if I’ll take that chance. It’s a weird contradiction. Bridget seems so big sometimes and I worry I’ve missed too much of her life. As her hair flies out behind her and she moves away from me, she seems so small.
I wonder if it’s always going to be this way. Probably. I shake my head, pushing away the thoughts of her growing up and asking questions about what happened during the first part of her life and why I wasn’t there for her. That’s not for a long time, but the knowledge still picks away at me.
A flash of sunlight catches my eye. My heart skips a beat at the sight of her. Magnolia smiles from behind her phone, her posture more relaxed than it was before. “I had to capture the moment,” she says. “First time pushing your baby girl on the swing.”
So she feels it too, how special everything is. Bridget kicks back toward me and I push her again. I joke with her, trying to lighten the moment, “It’s not the first time. We started out on the swings. This is at least the second or third time.”
Magnolia laughs and that sound brings me more relief than I thought it would.
“You all right?” I ask her, knowing she was just talking to Robert.
She nods and tells me she is, and although sadness still hides behind her cadence, it’s not so heart wrenching.
The breeze toys with the hem of Magnolia’s blue dress as she comes close. I offer her one hand, the other still giving Bridget a gentle push. Twining her fingers with mine she tells me, “Tonight I want to tell you my secrets.”
“Secrets?” I question, not knowing what they are, but ready to hear it all. “You going to scare me away?” I ask her, keeping humor in my tone.
Her eyes widen with the same humor, but there’s always a little truth behind every joke. “I hope not,” she says and I feel that truth there. Every small step between us feels like a giant leap.
“Good, ’cause I don’t want to go anywhere,” I admit to her and she gives me a soft smile. “I do have some bad news, though … I told my mom and she needs a moment.”
A numbness flows down my shoulders at the look of fear that swirls in Magnolia’s blue eyes. “So she’s not going to be coming to the park, but she said she’ll still come by later today. She just needs to get a grip on the situation.”