Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 69910 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69910 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
I’m frozen. I planned this moment in my head to the point where it became like a unicorn in my mind. A fantasy. A dream world. Apollo has his arm around my waist, and he’s probably the only thing keeping me upright at the moment. I think he knows that. It explains why he leans in until my shoulder is bracketed by his. I can’t fall with all his strength at my side. It’s comforting, and in a rush of tornado-crazy emotions, it’s nice to have such a solid, dependable comfort I can pick out of everything else I’m feeling and put my faith in.
It makes it easier to breathe.
Especially when my mom’s husband—a tall, slim, athletic-looking man with iron-grey hair, a dark shadow on his jaw, and dark brown eyes—follows her into the house.
Apollo opened the door when they clanged the cowbell, and then he immediately stepped back to my side. Other than his smile and his few words of welcome and come in, no one has said anything.
Jonesboro. Her last name isn’t Pullen anymore. She has a husband. And a new life in New York, where she started over again. The wedding ring set on her left hand is massive, a big chunky diamond catching the light.
My mom’s eyes fill up with tears a few seconds after she clears the door. Mine have been going that way pretty much constantly for the past four days—ever since we got that call from the guy Apollo hired. He gave us my mom’s phone number and address, and I called her immediately, even though I didn’t know what to say. It turned out that just hearing her voice was enough, and it didn’t matter that we cried together without words for a good solid five minutes before she begged to be able to come and fly out to see me.
I’m stiff and awkward now. It’s a rank state of shock, but I feel like if I move or blink, this might turn out to be undeniably not real.
Apollo runs his hand down my arm, flooding me with warmth, and then he steps forward and offers his hand to my mom’s husband. Will. His name is Will. She said that on the phone. They exchange a handshake and a clap on the shoulder. I don’t know if I’d ever be able to move if Apollo hadn’t moved first, but I’m moving now. I nearly trip over my rushing, churning feet as I hurtle myself at my mom.
She opens her arms, and oh my god, Mom. I’ve missed you so much. Please let this be real. She’s solid against me, and she holds me like she used to do when I was little. Mom hugs don’t change with age, and I’m never going to be too big for them. She smells different. She’s even dressed differently. She looks like a businesswoman with her skirt suit on and the designer bag hanging from the crook of her arm. She also smells like expensive perfume and her exotic life in New York.
I don’t want to cry all over her good clothes, but I cry anyway. I can’t make it stop, but I angle to the side so my tears drip all over me instead of all over her.
I’ve waited an eternity and a half for this. My mom’s chin wobbles, and then she presses her index and middle fingers to her bottom lip just like she always used to do.
There’s something to be said for realizing my mom is the same person she was back when I was little. That she never abandoned me. That she never stopped trying to be in my life. That as soon as the PI gave me her number and we could be reunited, she dropped everything, got on a plane, and came out here immediately. Even though she’s done well for herself, and even though she has super nice clothes, a huge diamond ring, and probably lots of money, she still has the same smile. She still presses her fingers to her lips the same way, her chin still wobbles when she’s trying to bite back her emotion, and she still has those same dimples when she smiles. They look just like mine. Or rather, mine look just like hers.
I hug her harder. “I’ve missed you,” I breathe, and that’s all it’s going to take, but then Will gasps, and we both get distracted, so the bawl fest doesn’t immediately happen.
“A skunk! You have a pet skunk!”
Bitty Kitty waddles into the room with her tail lifted high, proud as can be of herself. I’m so glad Will didn’t leap out the window or turn the coffee table over to hide behind it. I know how much Apollo doesn’t want another pool incident. We’ve had a few too many of those lately, including the night when I almost lost him to muscle cramps.