Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 121576 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 608(@200wpm)___ 486(@250wpm)___ 405(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121576 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 608(@200wpm)___ 486(@250wpm)___ 405(@300wpm)
“I’m not saying I can’t stay. I’m just…” Jenna dropped her arms. “I have kids too, Nathan. I don’t mind staying this late and neither do they, but you need to communicate with me.”
She was right. I honestly hadn’t thought to clarify what time I’d be home, and I wasn’t sure why I hadn’t. Maybe I just assumed it wouldn’t be an issue, and if it was, she would’ve called me. That was my mistake.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I should’ve given you a heads-up.”
“I should’ve made you specify earlier, but—”
“No, this is on me. I should’ve told you, Jenna. And I should’ve made sure you were okay with it before I left this morning. This won’t happen again.”
She blinked up at me, a soft smile pulling at her lips. “Thank you.”
“Of course.”
Jenna hooked her thumb at the door. “Shall we?”
I gestured for her to head inside. “After you.”
The TV was tuned to some cartoon channel Jenna’s kids were watching. Both of them popped their heads up from the sofa when we entered the house.
“Nate!” Oliver sprang from the couch and spun around, wincing when Jenna hushed him and mumbling an, “oh, right,” when she corrected his greeting. “Sorry,” he told her before looking over at me again. “Um, I mean, Mr. Nate, you played football?” He rushed over to the bookcase along the far wall and picked up one of the picture frames, holding it out to show me.
I closed the door and moved farther into the room, stopping at the end of the sofa.
“You can call me Nate,” I said, feeling bad for the kid. He obviously knew what he wanted to call me. And what the hell did I care?
“Cool.” Oliver smiled and looked at Jenna. “Hear that, Mom? We can call him Nate. He just said we could.”
“I heard him. I’m right here.” Jenna laughed softly as she moved to the other sofa. She began to pack up her bag, stacking papers together and tucking them inside the large pocket.
“Hi, Nate.” Olivia waved from her seat.
“Hey.”
Her smile stretched into a grin. “Hi,” she repeated, a little softer this time.
My chest moved with a laugh. She was cute.
“I just wanted to make sure you heard, Mom.” Oliver met my gaze again and gestured at the picture in his hand. “Football? You played?”
“Yeah. All the way through college.”
“What position?”
“Quarterback.”
His eyes went round. “What? No way!”
“Oliver,” Jenna scolded, hushing him again. “Marley is asleep.”
“No way,” he repeated on a whisper. “I want to be quarterback too, but my coach said my arm isn’t strong enough. I’m fast though. I made four starts at running back last season. My coach said I did really good. That might be my position. But I don’t want to not try to be quarterback. That’s my dream spot.” He glanced at the picture, then slowly tilted his head back to look up at me. “I really hope I get over six foot. You have to be tall to be a quarterback. How tall are you?”
“Yeah, how tall are you?” Olivia pressed from her spot on the sofa. She had that notepad open in her lap now and a pen ready.
Her and the notes. What is with that?
I loosened my tie and popped the top button of my shirt, answering, “I’m six four.”
“Wow,” Olivia whispered.
Oliver gaped at me. “Could we play catch sometime? Like, are you busy right now? ’Cause I’m not busy. I have the whole night free.”
I chuckled, gearing to answer with an obvious, “Maybe another time,” when Jenna stood from the love seat and walked over to him.
“Oliver, it’s way too late. You wouldn’t even be able to see anything out there.” She took the frame out of his hand and placed it back on the bookshelf, then grabbed his shoulders and spun him in the direction of the kitchen. “Go get your stuff packed up, please. Olivia, you too.”
Olivia shot up and ran after her brother.
“Sorry.” Jenna laughed a little and reached up, pulling the pencil out of the knot on top of her head. Her hair tumbled over her shoulders. It was dark brown with hints of gold near the ends and straight, not wavy like it was that day in my office. I watched her run her fingers through the ends. It looked soft.
I blinked. It looked soft? Why the fuck did I think that?
“Here.” I tugged my wallet out of my back pocket and pulled out some cash, handing it over.
I needed to pay her. Truth be told though, I also knew there was a good chance she’d quit fixing her hair if she was holding money. And I apparently needed her to stop drawing my attention to it.
“Thanks.” Jenna folded the bills together. Her hands stayed lowered.
Perfect.
“How was Marley?” I asked. “Did she give you any problems?”
“Oh my God, no. Not at all. She’s so good.”