Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 91434 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91434 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
“Morning,” I answer, putting the phone to my ear.
“Hey, Daddy,” she says cheerfully, “you didn’t call me.”
I sit up in bed and look over to see it’s almost seven thirty. “Sorry, baby, I overslept,” I say something that I’ve never done. “Did you check your spelling words?” I ask, getting up and walking back into my closet and peeling my shirt off, putting the phone on speaker.
“Yeah, Mommy and I did them yesterday and I got them all right,” she says, “and I am on chapter twelve of my book. Mommy said I had to put it away until all my homework was done.”
“Well, Mommy is right,” I agree with Karla even though we both know Saige is reading at a seventh-grade level, even if she’s only eight. She started reading before kindergarten and was always with her nose in a book. She still is that way. Sure, she has playdates and plays outside, but if she’s inside and the television isn’t on, she’s got her nose in a book.
“She said we can’t see you this week,” she whispers softly, and I close my eyes. “We are having dinner with someone else.”
“That’s okay,” I assure her, trying not to show her I’m pissed about it. “We get to see each other in four days.”
“I know,” she mumbles sadly, “but I miss you.”
“I know, baby girl. How about we have movie night on Friday?” I try to change her mood. “We can order pizza and camp out in front of the television, and we can watch whatever movie you want to watch.”
“Ohh!” she squeals with glee. “Okay, let’s do that.” I hear Karla yelling at her in the background that she needs to get dressed.
“Call me tonight when you get home and let me know how the test went. I love you, Saige.”
“Love you too, Daddy,” she replies and then hangs up before Karla starts in on her again.
I know I shouldn’t text her, but I do anyway.
Me: Hey, can you call me when you have a minute?
I get dressed in my Dickies pants and black T-shirt before rushing out of the house. I get to the garage at the same time as Ryan gets there, and he looks over at me like he’s confused.
“Are you getting here just now?” he asks.
“I’ll let you know when you become my boss,” I snap, and he rolls his lips to stop from laughing at me and my guilt of coming in later. My eyes move up to the bakery, and I see about ten construction men standing by the truck, some of them waiting on their order, a couple of them already with their coffee but eating a donut beside the truck. “Did you get coffee?” I ask Ryan as my feet start to walk toward the bakery.
Ryan rushes over to walk beside me. “I did, but something tells me I need to come with you.”
I turn in the parking lot and spot her right away, leaning out of the side of the truck with a smile as she hands the man in front of her a coffee. My jaw gets tight. “She’s fucking gorgeous, and she can make a mean donut.”
I don’t even feel my jaw getting tighter. “Maybe we should come back.” Ryan tries to pull me away from the construction men who should be fucking working.
I stand in line behind two men, who are also standing behind a man, as they talk about some game that was on last night. But my eyes are on her as she pours two more cups of coffee. The man in front of them tells Everleigh, “You are going to have to let me take you out, or better yet, let me cook for you.” He winks and smirks at her, and she just smiles, not saying anything as she turns and prepares his coffee. “I’ll see you later, Everleigh,” he says, and she nods.
“I’ll be here until three thirty.” I don’t think she’s flirting back with him as much as she’s just telling him what her hours are.
The two men in front of us walk up to the window to order their stuff. She goes to prepare their items. Her eyes meet mine when she sticks her head out again and the smile that is on her face goes even bigger. “Hi,” she says over the two guys in front of her, taking one more look at me before turning to the guys and telling them how much it is. They each give her a five, which is double their bill. She puts it in the tip jar in the front, which I see is almost full, and she’s only been open for about an hour.
“Hey.” She leans on her elbows on the counter inside the truck. “What can I get you guys?”
“I’ll have a coffee,” Ryan orders, “and one of the donuts.” She nods and then turns to me.