Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 92417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
“Stop,” she begged. “No more.”
Grudgingly, I tore my mouth from her skin and rested my forehead against hers, breathing hard.
“You can’t keep doing this,” she said. “It’s not fair.”
“I know.”
Placing her hands on my shoulders, she pushed me away. “I should leave.”
I nodded. “You go out first. I’ll wait a minute.”
She shook her head, her blue eyes shining with tears. “No, I mean leave your house. My living here is making this really hard.”
“No!” It killed me to think of her gone. “Don’t leave, Roni. The kids would be devastated. They adore you.”
“I adore them too. I don’t want to go.”
“Then stay. I won’t do this again. I promise.”
She put her hand on her stomach and took a deep breath. “Okay. I’ll go out first.”
I watched her leave and pulled the door shut again. Then I stared at myself in the mirror over the sink, furious that I’d upset her.
What the fuck was wrong with me?
Sunday morning, we went to Moe’s for breakfast. After I handed the kids a bunch of quarters, all I could do was stare across the table at the woman whose existence I hadn’t even known of two months ago, but whose departure in two weeks was tearing me apart. What if I never saw her again?
Ari came and poured coffee, and the two women chatted for a moment. When Ari turned to leave, Veronica caught her arm. “Hey, can you bring some almond milk?”
“Of course.” Ari smiled at me. “Sorry I forgot. Be right back.”
When we were alone again, Veronica smiled hesitantly at me. “So I got the job,” she said.
“The job?”
“The assistant choreographer’s position.” She lifted her coffee mug to her lips.
“Oh.” My heart sank. “That’s—that’s good.”
“Yeah. I was getting nervous.”
“And you have a place to live?” My eyes fastened onto the beginnings of the bruise I’d left on her neck last night. She’d worn her hair down this morning, which hid it fairly well, but I knew where to look. I knew so many things about her body.
“I think so. Morgan connected me with someone looking to sublet their studio apartment in Little Italy. I just have to confirm what I’ll earn before I say yes. Then book my ticket.” She set the mug down.
“You’re probably excited to get back to New York.”
“Yeah.” Her eyes dropped. “Although I’ll miss it here. It will be hard to leave. In some ways, I wish I had a reason to stay.”
Maybe it was her words that made me do what I did next.
Or maybe it was the red lipstick mark on her white coffee cup.
Later that afternoon, I took the kids over to see my dad. While they ran around in his backyard, which still had the playscape we’d built them when they were younger, we sat on his patio under the shade of an umbrella.
“Where’s Veronica?” he asked.
“She’s at home. She had some things to do.” The truth was that I hadn’t asked her to come along.
“Boy, that was lucky, finding her. Wasn’t it?” My dad chuckled. “Someone like that doesn’t knock on your door every day.”
“That’s true.”
“Too bad she’s got to leave,” he mused. “Kids are crazy about her.”
“So I’ve been thinking about that.” I leaned forward in my chair, elbows on my knees. “I was thinking I’d ask her to stay.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. I was thinking that it might be nice to have her around this fall, and—and beyond. For childcare, while I work.”
“Won’t the kids be in school?”
“They will, but they’re getting older, and they’ll need help with homework and rides to activities. I might be too busy to handle it all.”
“Why’s that?”
“There’s something I’d like to talk to you about.” I took a breath. “I’d like to cut back at Two Buckleys and go into business for myself.”
“Oh yeah?” He rubbed his chin. “Making those tables? I was looking at your work in the garage last night. It’s beautiful. You’ve got a gift.”
“Thanks.” I felt proud that my dad liked my work. “I can make a lot of things. But yes, there’s a lot of interest in tables. I have orders I’d like to fill. I just need time to do it.”
My dad looked away from me, his eyes shifting to the twins chasing each other around the playscape. When Owen caught his sister, he tackled her and threw her to the ground. She quickly flipped him over and sat on him.
My dad laughed. “Looks like you and Xander out there.”
“I wouldn’t need to leave Two Buckleys completely,” I told him, impatient for him to comment on what I’d just said. “I could still help you out.”
He continued to watch the kids, a nostalgic kind of smile on his face. “I didn’t get to do this all that much when you guys were young—just watch you kids run around and have fun. It’s nice. And going out on the boat last week—that was nice too.”