Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 67991 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67991 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
“All right, shout if you need me.” I ruffle his hair before I leave, the normalcy of the moment a stark contrast to the rest of our lives lately.
Back downstairs in Mom’s bedroom, I say, “Let’s get you on the couch for a bit.”
“Oh, honey… I’m tired,” she says, waving me off.
“Have you spent any time out of the bed today?” I ask, leveling her with a pointed look.
“Of course, I did. When Judith was here.”
“How long?” I press.
She flushes guiltily. “About twenty minutes.”
“Not good enough,” I say, going into mean nurse mode. “The doctors said you’ve got to move around and besides, it’s not good for you to stay in bed all the time.”
My mother sighs, not in an overly dramatic way, but in a way that tells me she’s indeed tired. And I honestly get it, she’s been through hell. I know she’s miserable in that huge cast on her leg and being unable to use her hands effectively, and I know she hurts from head to toe. Her most pressing complaint is neck pain as she had to have surgery to put plates on a fractured vertebra.
But I don’t relent. I can’t. She could easily slip into apathy and encouragement is my middle name.
“Come on… let’s get you up.”
I efficiently pull back the covers, maneuver her wheelchair beside the bed and then help her into it with her arms around my shoulders since she can’t put pressure on her wrists. Otherwise, she’d be using crutches or a walker by this time. It’s crazy how the smallest injuries to her wrists are the things causing us the most problems right now.
I wheel her carefully through the bedroom door, which has maybe a half an inch clearance on either side. We made the living room a little more expansive by moving the love seat into Cooper’s room. I don’t offer Mom the comfy recliner but instead set the brakes so she can sit upright in the wheelchair for a while.
I plop down on the couch, curling my feet under me. While I long to get out of this putrid mustard-colored shirt and stand under a hot shower, followed by filling my empty stomach, I’m far too excited to tell my mom about my day.
“So, something crazy happened at work,” I start, and her interest is piqued immediately.
She leans forward in the chair. “Do tell.”
I dive into the story of the insanely gorgeous man who kissed me in the international foods section, my hands gesturing wildly as I recount the absurdity of the moment. “I mean… I could tell right away that he wasn’t trying to assault me or anything. I could sort of feel this panicky desperation in the kiss, and then he whispered to me, ‘Please… just go with it. I need to be saved from a crazy woman.’”
“What!?” my mom exclaims. “A crazy woman.”
I shrug. “No clue what that meant at the time, but well… I went with it.”
“Shut up.” My mom gasps.
“It was a good kiss too. You know, the type you see in a romance movie when the two starstruck lovers haven’t seen each other in a long time.”
Loving my mom’s giggle of appreciation, a sound I don’t hear often, I continue. “At any rate, when we broke apart, this woman was standing there, staring daggers at him.”
“Former girlfriend?”
“Apparently sort of a stalker, I guess. So I pretended to be his girlfriend, and the woman eventually left. All’s well that ends well.”
I tuck my hands behind my head, straightening my legs and kicking my feet up on the coffee table.
My mom stares at me, mouth agape, and then finally demands, “And that’s it? This gorgeous man kisses you and… that’s it?”
I shrug again. “I had to work the register and then clean up a pallet of milk that spilled, so I didn’t see him again.”
Sighing dramatically, my mom has an almost dreamy smile on her face. She’s forever the romantic and reads romance novels like they’re on the verge of being outlawed. “That could’ve been the best meet cute for a long-lasting and loving relationship.”
I snort at the thought of something so ridiculous, but part of me is sad that I didn’t see the man again. He was so good-looking, completely my type. First, very tall… at least six five or six six and had a broad chest. I could tell by the fit of his jacket that he was built underneath.
But I’m really a face girl and that’s what sold me. High cheekbones, full lips, straight nose and beautiful blue eyes that stood out under slashing dark brows. He has a scar above his eyebrow and a smaller one on his chin, but that only heightens his appeal. His hair was a bit shorter than I prefer, cut short on the sides and slightly longer on top, but no one’s perfect, I guess.