Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 96284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
I took a breath and dared to smile a little. It was a good feeling. Aunt Elsie would be playfully offended for a minute, of course, because she wanted us at home in a guest room or two, but then she’d realize our own place in Brooklyn might entail more frequent visits. We’d have a home away from home to set down some roots on the East Coast.
“Show me the bedrooms,” I requested.
He inclined his head and walked down the hallway. “By the way, call me a cliché, but ‘Bridge Over Troubled Water’ is the best song.”
I grinned quickly and stuck my hands down in the pockets of my jeans. I was a cliché too, then. My mom had loved Simon and Garfunkel. “That one and ‘The Boxer,’” I said.
“Agreed. See, we’re already a better duo than those two. We agree on things.”
I chuckled.
We slowed down outside the two side-by-side bedrooms, and it was all too easy to see bunk beds in one and…a king-size in the other. Rather than the two queen beds that stood in the left one now. The other room was empty.
That fucking song, “Bridge Over Troubled Water,” played in my head as my masochistic brain shoved images of a fantasy future to the forefront of my mind. Traveling with Jake, with our kids, juggling them together, turning a disaster in the kitchen into a night out at a restaurant, getting the kids ready for bed when they were running around and giving us grays…
I opened the bathroom door behind us and envisioned suds all over the floor, Casper trying out my aftershave, Adam and Callie fighting over who had been snuck the most quarters by my uncle, Sam hiding Colin’s toothbrush with a mischievous smirk, and—
“I have a date on Friday.”
The visions faded into nothing, and I was left with a kick in the gut instead.
I closed the door and clenched my jaw, unclenched it, and pushed down every fucking emotion that wanted to escape. This was it. Whatever had happened with Greer didn’t matter. This was Jake moving on. He was ready to explore.
I turned to face him again, but I couldn’t for the life of me make eye contact. Instead, I nodded and looked down. My hands went back into my pockets.
“Good.” I cleared my throat, fucking nauseated, and forced the words out. “I, uh, I guess that means you’ve made some progress about…you know. Who you are. That’s great. Do I know who it is?”
Don’t tell me. Just kill me.
He leaned against the doorframe and folded his arms over his chest. I didn’t dare look higher than that, instead pretending to find the floorboards very fascinating.
“I don’t know if you remember David,” he said quietly. David—what a fucking name. I hated David. “We competed against him and his friend Zoey on that game show a few years ago.”
Oh. That fucker. Yeah, I remembered him. I knew they’d stayed in touch—and had way too much in common.
“The photographer.” I nodded once. Jealousy tightened its fist around my chest, and I couldn’t stop the bitterness from seeping in too. I’d never felt so goddamn stuck in my life. I couldn’t regret a single second that’d brought me my kids, so I couldn’t say my life would’ve been better if I’d never married Sandra. But that didn’t prevent me from feeling angry. Angry at our situation, angry with myself—hell, angry with Jake. I didn’t even know why. None of it was rational. My skin prickled uncomfortably, and I felt like I had a noose around my neck.
When I was angry, I lost my filters.
“I guess he’s a better match than Greer,” I noted. “Unless you’re into calling someone Master, of course.”
“Whoa. What the fuck?”
Yeah, what the fuck.
Instant regret, but I was too pissed to apologize. So I started heading back to the living room and shook my head at myself. “Ignore me. Congrats on your date.”
“Screw that—what the hell did you mean by that with Greer?” he demanded.
“I fucking saw you today,” I spat out over my shoulder. “The flirting when you played basketball? Then you disappeared into the garage.” Fucking hell, I needed to cool down. All of a sudden, the anger exploded into rage tinted with desperation and, fuck, I don’t know, hysteria. I wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. I’d made one goddamn mistake; I’d promised commitment to a woman who’d been afraid to raise a baby alone, which never would’ve happened, and now I was here.
Yeah, with three beautiful children.
God.
I wanted to scream. Instead, I turned to the nearest wall and punched it as hard as I could.
“Hey! For fuck’s sake, Roe!”
“I don’t wanna hear it!” I shouted. “Lemme calm the fuck down.” Ow. I screwed my eyes shut as the pain blazed up my hand. My heart pounded, my breaths came out choppy, and I couldn’t fucking control myself. Christ, this wasn’t like me. Being hotheaded was one thing, but I wasn’t an angry person. I hated anger.