Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 85522 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85522 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
“I’m sure they appreciate that.”
“They do. It happens pretty much every time I cook. I hate the idea of food going to waste.”
“Yeah, me too. Eating out is easier.”
“I eat a lot of frozen meals, which I know isn’t exactly the healthiest option, but it works.”
“Sounds like the two of us should share more meals together.”
Deliberately ignoring his words, I turn to face him, saying, “Here you go.” I hand him his bowl of salad. Grabbing my bowl, and the two bottles of dressing, I place them on the table. Landon already has our plates with two forks, so there’s nothing left to do but drinks. “What would you like to drink? I have water, lemonade. I think I have a bottle of wine….” My voice trails off as I try to remember if I do, in fact, still have a bottle of wine.
“Water is fine. I’ll grab it. Sit.” He points to the seat at the table next to his, where he places my plate. It would be rude to move to the opposite end of the table to get some distance from him. He’s so… big and commanding, and he makes my tiny house feel even smaller.
“So, your folks live in Georgia?” he asks, taking a bite of his salad once he’s seated.
“My mom does. She loves it there.”
“That’s important. Loving where you live.”
“What about you? Does your family live nearby?”
“They do actually, about an hour from here. I still don’t get to see them as much as I’d like. They make it to all of my home games, and we usually have dinner afterward. Sometimes Mom cooks at my place. She thinks that she still needs to take care of me.”
“I can imagine that’s a feeling or need rather that never goes away once you have kids.”
“That’s what she tells me.” He takes a bite of his casserole, his salad bowl now empty. “Wow, this is really good.”
“You doubted me?” I feign being shocked.
“Never.” He takes another big bite. “You want kids?” he asks.
Luckily, I’m in between bites or I might have choked. “Yes. Do you?”
He nods. “Yeah, one day. At least two, if not more. It was lonely growing up as an only child.”
“Right?” I say, nodding. “I was always allowed to have friends over, but it isn’t the same. Not only that, but I’ll never be an aunt, not by blood anyway. Well, I guess if my future husband has a sibling who has kids. CJ is the closest thing to a nephew for me.”
“You know, I never really thought about that.”
I shrug. “I begged my mom for a sibling when I was little. It wasn’t until I was older that I understood that she needed a man to make that happen. My dad never knew about me. I guess he was just passing through. They spent a magical week together, and then he was gone. She didn’t know how to reach him, and when she finally found him, he was married. Mom just figured it was easier to let it go. I was eight at the time.”
“That had to have been hard. Growing up without a dad.”
“My mom is amazing, and except for the father-daughter dances, I didn’t really notice much. It was me and Mom against the world.”
“My parents said they didn’t want more than one. That they couldn’t imagine loving another like they did me.” He grins and winks. I appreciate that he realized the conversation was getting heavy and his attempt to lighten it is greatly appreciated. I don’t really talk about my dad. I’m surprised I did just now. Something about Landon gets me opening up.
“Is that how the story goes?” I tease. “Would they tell the same version?”
“Okay, so maybe they said I was more than they could handle.” He laughs, and the sound fills the kitchen and makes my house feel not so… lonely.
Landon helps himself to another serving while I finish my first. He polishes it off and stands, taking both of our plates to the sink. In no time at all, we have the kitchen cleaned up and Landon pulls me by the hand back to the living room. This time he sits down on the couch, his back propped up on the arm, and spreads his legs, patting the empty space between them for me to sit. “I don’t think I’ve had enough experimenting to know if I really like this cuddling business.” He smirks and I roll my eyes.
“Come on, freckles, humor me.” He tugs gently on my hand and I plop down on the couch. Rolling onto my side, I rest my head on his chest. He pulls the cover over me and begins to surf through the channels. He stops on some Sci-Fi movie. I hear the sound of the remote being placed on the end table, and then feel his hand as he rests his large palm against my back.