Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 111732 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 559(@200wpm)___ 447(@250wpm)___ 372(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111732 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 559(@200wpm)___ 447(@250wpm)___ 372(@300wpm)
“Naomi has a brudder.”
“Yes, she does.” Marnie looks at the table. “That’s her best friend from pre-school.” She returns to her daughter and begins guiding her from the table. “Say goodnight to everyone, sweetie.”
Ripley heads straight to me and gives me a hug. During our awkward embrace, she whispers, “I love you so much.” Not knowing what the fuck to say to that, I reply, “Thanks.” From me, Ripley heads to my besotted mother and gives her a hug, at which point my mother buries her nose in Ripley’s hair and says, “Aw, I love you, too, Ripley.”
I sigh with relief. At least, the kid loves everyone. Not only me.
Mom says to Ripley, “Guess what? I’m sleeping here tonight, and I’m an early riser—so in the morning, I’d be happy to make you pancakes before you head off to school.”
Ripley gasps with delight. “With smiley faces on dem?”
“Chocolate chip smiley faces, you mean?” After checking with Marnie and getting a nod, Mom returns to Ripley and says, “Absolutely.”
Ripley does a little happy dance before addressing me. “Are you sleeping here, too?”
“Nope. I’m heading back to my house now, as a matter of fact. I’ve got an early day at work tomorrow.”
Ripley looks disappointed. “If you spend da night, you can take me to school tomorrow and den go to work. Dat’s what Mommy does.”
“No, honey,” Marnie says before I’ve replied. “I’ll be the one taking you to school in the morning, like always. Max is a busy guy. Let’s be thankful for all the time he’s spent with us today. He’s been very, very kind.”
“Tank you,” Ripley says.
“You’re welcome. I’ve had fun.”
“Now, come on. Let’s get those teeth brushed.” With that, Marnie bustles her kid out of the dining room. But not before stealing one last look at me—a white-hot smolder that instantly sends tingles into my dick, yet again.
12
MARNIE
I leave my chatterbox’s bedroom—after reading no less than three of her favorite books, all while parrying constant questions about why Max can’t be her daddy like that pretty lady at the gallery said—thanks, lady—and head into my bedroom to change into pajamas, brush my teeth, and wash every trace of makeup off my skin. My bedtime routine complete, I head into the living room to see if Max is still here. But the room is empty. No Max. And no Dad or Gigi, either.
I hear laughter in the adjacent kitchen, so I head in there—and then stop short in the doorway. Dad and Gigi are standing, side by side at the sink, loading the dishwasher together, with Gigi happily rinsing plates and handing them to Dad, who then meticulously arranges them in the machine. It’s a vignette I’ve seen before. Many times. Only with Mom standing where Gigi is standing now. For a moment, the sight of Gigi taking Mom’s place is jarring to me.
When I first met Gigi—Geraldine—in yoga class, she reminded me so much of my mother, I had to fight the urge to throw my arms around her and sob. It wasn’t a physical resemblance. Mom was a redhead, like me. It was Geraldine’s energy. Her kind smile. The easy, nurturing, non-judgmental way she has about her. All of it felt instantly recognizable to me. And I wanted to bask in the glow of it all. That’s why I approached Geraldine after that first class and struck up a conversation. I’d joined the class for networking purposes only—I don’t even like yoga all that much—and wound-up meeting someone who felt like a salve for my aching soul.
As I got to know Geraldine through weekly classes and post-yoga coffees, I only liked her more and more. Until one day, I realized she might be the perfect salve for my father’s aching soul, too. When Dad said he wasn’t ready, and I realized I was a hot mess who was constantly treating the symptoms of my distress, rather than digging down to the root of it, I let my friendship with Geraldine fade. And now, in a shocking twist, here she is. In Dad’s house. Standing in Dad’s kitchen. Taking Mom’s usual spot. And I’m suddenly not sure how I feel about that. I wanted her here. This was my idea. And now, I’m not sure I can handle it.
“Hey there,” I say to announce myself, and they both turn around, all beaming, bright smiles. I walk to the fridge and grab a bottle of white wine, and Dad and Gigi return to their task.
“Wine?” I ask the pair.
“I’d love some,” Gigi says.
“I’m good,” Dad says. “Why don’t you two catch up for a bit? I’ll head to my bedroom and read a few chapters of my book. It’s just now getting good.”
“Are you sure?” Gigi asks.
“Absolutely. I’m sure you two have plenty to catch up on.” He pecks Gigi’s cheek and then mine. “Goodnight, ladies.” He smiles at Gigi. “Take your time.” And off he goes with a skip in his step I haven’t seen since Mom died.