Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 97592 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97592 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Once Dolly’s done her business, I plant us at a bench that’s off the beaten path. She’s already drooling for her bacon, and I smile down at her in amusement when I toss her a bite.
In true Dolly fashion, one bite isn’t enough, and I end up feeding her all the bacon before I manage a sip of my coffee. She’s persistent when it comes to food, that’s for sure, but once she’s certain all the meat is gone, she stretches out near my feet and busies herself with observing the crowd while her snout rests between her paws.
I lift my to-go cup to get some much-needed caffeine, but the first sip is interrupted by an incoming text.
Sammy: I have bad news. Seth woke up puking. :( I hate to cancel on the game today, but there’s no way we can go now. Ugh. I’m so sorry, Noah. The kids are devastated.
Shit. Disappointment sits heavy in my stomach, but clearly, I understand. Kids get sick sometimes.
Me: No need to apologize, Sam. I’m sorry Seth is sick. Poor guy. Are you and Grant feeling okay?
Sammy: For now, we’re both good, but I’m pretty sure we all need to quarantine inside the apartment and keep our germs to ourselves.
Me: Is there anything I can do to help?
Sammy. No, but I definitely appreciate the offer. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to go clean up Seth’s round three of puking while I field Grant’s whines about the fact that we have to miss the game.
I almost send her another message, telling her to text or call me if she needs anything, but I know she’s way too busy to be on her phone.
Though, it doesn’t stop me from wishing I could be the man by her side, helping her right now, rather than the man sitting on this fucking park bench, who isn’t doing anything at all.
But what the hell? Maybe I can be.
Sammy’s face is full of shock as she answers the door in a white T-shirt and a pair of flannel pajama shorts and finds me standing on the other side. She looks stressed and flushed and unfuckingbelievably beautiful.
“Noah? What are you doing here?”
After running around all morning and most of the afternoon, I decided it was time to implement Operation “Be the Man by Sammy’s Side,” starting with an unannounced, six o’clock visit to bring her and the boys some sustenance.
I lift the bag of soup and bread I grabbed from a market near her building and hold it there. “I figured you wouldn’t be thinking about feeding yourself, and selfishly…I wanted to see you. Is it okay that I’m here?”
“Of course it is.” Sammy’s laugh is half incredulity, half humor. “But are you sure you want to be here? Seth’s doing a little better, but this bug must be derived from some Stephen King-type of stuff. It’s been horrifying.”
“I work in a hospital, Sam. Whatever you’ve seen, I’ve had my hands in it before.” As she takes the bag of food and welcomes me in, I make sure to distinguish on a chuckle, “I’ve washed them since, though, I assure you.”
“I’ve also washed my hands today. A lot, in fact.” Sammy smiles, but it quickly turns into a frown. “God, I’m so sorry about canceling on the game. And trust me, the boys weren’t happy we had to cancel either. Grant’s been mopey all day, and Seth found time to gripe about it in between his rounds of puke and rally.”
“We’ll find another day to go,” I counter as I follow her into the kitchen. “I can easily get tickets for another game so the boys can get their Yankees fill and Seth can make use of that poster he worked so hard on.”
“I just…I feel so badly.” She sighs and sets the bag of food on the island that now stands between us. “And I can’t believe how many times the kids have been sick this year. Do they sell memberships to doctor’s offices? Hospitals? Because I’m starting to think I better sign up now if they do.” Sammy laughs, but self-deprecation is rife in every peal, and I can’t stop myself from rounding the island and pulling her into my arms.
“Hey, it’s okay.” I hug her long enough for her body to relax against mine.
“I’m a mess, Noah,” she whispers against my chest as she wraps her arms around my waist.
“You’re not a mess. You’re a mom who just spent the last eight hours cleaning up puke.”
“Technically, I’ve been cleaning up puke since four this morning.” She snorts. “But who’s counting, right?”
I chuckle and press a soft kiss to the top of her head. “Fourteen hours of vomit duty would push anyone over the edge.”
“I also made the stupid mistake of opening the hospital bill from Grant’s arm.” She takes a step away from my embrace to point to the opened envelope on the counter. “I nearly passed out when I saw how much I owe.”