Total pages in book: 160
Estimated words: 153268 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 766(@200wpm)___ 613(@250wpm)___ 511(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 153268 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 766(@200wpm)___ 613(@250wpm)___ 511(@300wpm)
Menchin tipped his head down. “Sorry about that.”
“Don’t be. Had a fucking blast. In fact, feel free to screw right off.”
Menchin brushed his hand over his gun without realizing what he was doing. These two were going to kill each other if given the chance.
“I can…stick around.” I cleared my throat.
Row’s voice was stone-cold as he continued staring at Menchin. “Thanks, I’ve got it.”
I swallowed hard. “You sure?”
“Positive.”
“I’ll go check on Dylan, then.”
Nobody noticed when I slipped out of the room to the hallway, pressed my head against the wall, and began bawling my eyes out.
CAL
“Ordinary World”—Duran Duran
It took me forty minutes to get myself together and stop weeping.
I didn’t know what was wrong with me. I hadn’t cried over a boy since Franco—keeping my distance from the other sex purposefully—and even that had been because of rather than over. Friendships? Parents? Instagram reels of thirsty, wing-torn bees being saved by a kind stranger that kept on popping up in my feed because the stupid algorithm knew I’d always bite? Sure.
But never about an actual guy.
Using whatever little energy I had left in me, I took the elevator downstairs to a gift shop and bought Dylan treats and flowers. I then walked across to a shopping center and grabbed Dylan something to eat. I figured because Tuck was still on a ship with no way to get home in the next week, she could use some pampering. Then I went up to the maternity ward, where I was informed Dylan’s room was at the end of the hall.
My feet pounded down the corridor, anxiety sifting through me. It was close to midnight, and I felt like I’d been awake since the dawn of civilization. I found Zeta sitting on a blue plastic chair in front of a door, sniffling into a ball of used tissue.
“Hi, Mrs. Casablancas!” I dropped the gifts and flowers to the floor, stacking my hands on top of her knees as I squatted down to reach her eye level. “Is she okay?”
She nodded, blowing her nose raucously. “Out of the delivery room. She had a C-section. Both mother and baby are healthy.”
Phew. “Are you okay?” I put a hand on her shoulder.
“Yes, honey, I think I am.” She looked up, resting a hand atop mine. “Just thinking. Wishing, really. That Dylan is with the right person. I love my children more than anything else in this world, but I had them with the wrong person. I always thought I needed to stay so they’d have both parents. I wouldn’t wish that upon her.”
I took the seat next to her, gathering her hands in mine. “You know, when Dylan and I were preteens, she used to say, ‘I’m not like other girls. I’m worse.’ We used to laugh about that. But what she meant was, she always stood her ground. Whether Tucker is a lesson or her forever, she will make the right decision. I know this in my bones. Social constructs mean jack shit to your kid.”
“Cal! Language.” She squeezed my hands in hers. “Anyway, how can you be so sure?”
“Because you make really smart kids, Mrs. Casablancas.” Lovable too.
After convincing Zeta to go get some rest and promising to call her if Dylan needed anything, I knocked on my best friend’s hospital door.
“Whoever comes in better not be the person who impregnated me,” she moaned.
I pushed the door open, bearing burgers and fries from Jack in the Box, and flowers. Dylan was on the bed, barefaced, with dark circles under her eyes. There was a see-through plastic cart with a bundled baby next to her. The baby appeared much smaller than Dylan’s still-huge tummy, further supporting my speculation she had been carrying triplets.
“How are you feeling?” I leaned down to kiss both her cheeks. She snatched the burger and fries from my hand and ripped into them with a feral groan.
“Hungry. Tired. Hurting all over.” She paused to swallow a huge bite of a double-patty cheeseburger. “You also brought sweets, right?”
I silently held up a plastic bag laden with chocolates.
“Good. I need you to give me a baby-wipe bath, straighten my hair, and help me put on some lashes.”
“Getting ready for a hot date?” I snickered, trying to push my own romantic woes out of my mind.
“Kieran texted. He’ll be coming to visit me tomorrow,” she said in a rush, adding, “and don’t worry, nothing’s going to happen between us. It’s just nice to have someone around who doesn’t see you as a baby-making machine that also bears the technology to make sandwiches. I know I should be trying to salvage whatever I have with Tucker, or at least break the news to him before I move on, and yes, I also know that falling in love with a soccer player is the worst idea a new single mom could have. I just don’t want to hear about it right now.”