Total pages in book: 178
Estimated words: 170884 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 854(@200wpm)___ 684(@250wpm)___ 570(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 170884 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 854(@200wpm)___ 684(@250wpm)___ 570(@300wpm)
Okay.
I had all the time in the world.
I really hoped she understood that because I wasn’t going anywhere.
Not without her.
I went with Molly to pick up my son from school. When she blatantly refused to take me along, I told her I’d follow anyways, and I must have looked convincing enough because she caved rather quickly. I stayed in the car, waiting patiently as she collected him.
The second he saw me in the backseat, his face transformed into a huge grin. “Dad!” But then he focused on my swollen nose and the purple bruising under my eyes and his face fell. “Daddy?”
“I had a little accident, bud, but it’s okay.” I held my arms out to him and he climbed into the backseat with me, falling into me. I hugged him as long as I could before I buckled him in. As we drove, I explained, “Your mom’s not feeling well, so we’re gonna give her a break. I’m gonna come over a while, okay?”
My son’s face lit up. “You’re staying?”
Smiling hurt, but for him, I managed a small one. “Hell, yeah, I’m staying.”
For the first time in my life, I got to be a father to my son, and I don’t know who was more thrilled about it, me or him.
When we got back to the house and I walked into the kitchen, I rubbed my hands together. “So—” I peered down at the smaller, shorter, skinnier version of me. “—what do you eat?”
Molly let out a choked laugh and I spun on her, glaring. At the intensity of my scowl, she raised her hands in surrender and wiped the grin off her face, which was a good thing, ‘cause I didn’t have any problem kicking her ass.
A.J. looked to the girl. “Molly makes me a snack after school.”
“I’m making your snack today, bud,” I told him, discreetly throwing Molly the bird when she grinned hard at my son’s loyalty to her. “What do you normally have?”
“Almond butter apple sandwiches,” said A.J. and I blinked.
“Come again?” What the fuck was that?
Molly cut in with, “I can do it, really. It’s no problem. It’s kind of my job.”
I turned, biting the inside of my cheek. I could fucking do it. If she could do it and she was like—what?—thirteen, then I could make my goddamn son a shitty snack.
Oh, shit.
My heart was racing. I needed to calm down.
Closing my eyes, I breathed deep, letting it out slowly. “I’ll do it. Just show me where the stuff is.”
The girl must’ve sensed the irritability in me because she did as I asked and grabbed me an apple, a knife, and some shit called almond butter. “All you do is cut the apple long ways, cut out the seeds, and put a thick layer of almond butter on them before putting another piece of apple on the top. See? Almond butter apple sandwiches.”
Yeah, I got it. Seemed easy enough.
I started cutting the apple and Molly made a sound in her throat. “Not that way. Long ways, like this.” She held the apple on its side.
My exasperation raised a whole level. “Does it really matter which way I cut the stupid apple?”
“It does,” she said, smartass that she was. “Unless you want A.J. to be eating arsenic-laced apple seeds.” When my brow knitted, she let out a hushed, “You do not want that.”
Okay. Shit.
Was it hot in here?
Agitated as fuck, I scratched at the scruff on my jaw.
Who knew making a snack would be so hard?
After I finished the stupid fucking fruit sandwiches, I put ‘em on a plate and handed them to A.J., and the look he gave me, one of pure elation, made all the anxiety cease.
“They look just like Molly’s.” Then he gazed up at me, asking, “Can I go see Mum?”
I started, “I don’t think—”
But Molly cut me off. “Of course, little dude. Just remember, she’s not feeling well, okay? So use your indoor voice.”
And he was off, opening the door quietly and stepping through before shutting it just as softly behind him.
When I looked at Molly, she uttered, “She won’t mind, trust me. He comes before her. Always has.”
Of course he did. That was because she was a great mum. Nothing like mine, nothing like hers, just as I knew she would be.
And it gave me hope that maybe even somebody like me could be a good dad if I put my mind to it. With Lexi’s help, I’d learn.
***
Lexi
I was crushed, absolutely devastated at the realization of the duplicity of the last five years. I wasn’t coping. Not at all. Every time I thought it, my breath hitched and more tears than I even knew I harbored fell.
To make matters worse, my son had tried to tell me, over and over again, and not only had I not believed him, but I made him feel that he couldn’t talk to me about it anymore.