Total pages in book: 45
Estimated words: 41725 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 209(@200wpm)___ 167(@250wpm)___ 139(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 41725 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 209(@200wpm)___ 167(@250wpm)___ 139(@300wpm)
“Enough.” Fen stood up and yanked the spoon out of my grip, then returned it and the ice cream to her kitchen. “Enough ice cream. Enough feeling sorry for yourself.”
“I’m not,” I muttered under my breath. I thought about it for a moment. “Or… okay, maybe I am. I’m just… I’m tired of losing people I love, Fen. It hurts.”
Fen’s face softened. “I know, babydoll.” She nudged my feet aside so she could plop back into her spot on the far side of the couch. “I do know. But this isn’t remotely like what happened with your family. And what you’re doing right now—letting your brain convince you that losing the Grant and the Brightons is inevitable—isn’t helping. You’re not going to lose them unless your own fear and insecurity makes you push them away. You don’t really believe Grant wants his ex-wife, do you? And do you truly think she’s trying to get back together with him, knowing that he’s gay and married?”
I huffed. “No. Not actually. But do I think Grant’s smart enough to realize that having a brilliant, beautiful, award-winning photographer doing the parent volunteer hours at Mountbatten might open more doors for the girls than a twenty-four-year-old who’s still working on his degree? Probably. And do I worry he might decide he doesn’t need an in-name-only husband slash full-time childcare specialist hanging around anymore? Maybe, yeah. And do I think Liza’s possessive and protective of all of them and wants to secure her place in the family by pushing me out? No doubt.” I shrugged. “The worst part is, I can’t even fault her. I might feel the same if they were my kids.”
“Those are your kids,” Fen grumbled. “Who took Mia to the ER when she had that bad ear infection? Who ran Cleo’s book report to the school when she left it behind? Who got Jacey pads the first time she got her period? Those are your insecurities talking, babydoll. Dr. McHotstuff wouldn’t have taken you to bed if he felt that way about you, would he?”
I didn’t think so, but I couldn’t say for sure. My head throbbed, and my eyes burned with unshed tears. “Can we change the subject, please? This isn’t helping.”
“What you need is a plan.” Fen crossed her arms defiantly. “A plan to show Dr. Brighton what he’d be missing if he let you go.”
“No. No plans. I’ve had way too much ice cream to think about that right now.” I stretched out my legs over her lap. “Do you mind if I stay here for a bit? Things were tense at the house earlier with me there, and that isn’t good for the kids. It’s probably best if I lie low until Liza, Grant, and I can sort things out.”
Fen pinched my leg. “I thought you were instructed to be home tonight.”
“Yeah.” I gave her a half smile. “But being around that tension’s not great for me, either.”
“In that case, of course you can stay the night.” She patted my foot. “And… look on the bright side,” she said, suddenly smiling widely. “We can dig in and get some work done so we’re ahead of schedule with our classes this semester! That way, when Dr. Brighton calls and tells you to stop being a dumbass—which he will—you won’t have to put him off to work on your project.”
“We can do that,” I agreed.
I did my best to focus on work the rest of the day and tried not to notice when day turned to night. Grant did text and call several times, but I ignored his messages. When I talked to him about what my future with his family would look like, I wanted to be calm and reasonable rather than a torn-up mess. It wasn’t Grant’s fault I’d fallen for him, and I didn’t want him to feel guilty or regret anything that had happened between us.
When my phone buzzed again after midnight, though, an hour after Fen had gone to bed and I’d finally given in to the tears that had been threatening all day, I couldn’t ignore it. Something could have been wrong with one of the girls, or the house, or… or…
“Grant?” I croaked, voice broken from crying. “Is everything okay?”
His voice made the hairs on my skin perk up. “No, everything is not okay. My husband is missing. My husband, who said he’d come home tonight. Who said he’d text me.”
I could hear the worry and sadness in his voice, and I’d be lying if I said it didn’t soothe something inside me to know he missed me, too. “I’m sorry I didn’t reply to your messages. I just wanted to give us all some space—”
“I don’t fucking want space. I want you. Here. Now. In our bed.” He took a deep breath. “But if that’s not what you want, Brody… If anything I said or did at any time made you feel obligated to—fuck.”