Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 139147 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 696(@200wpm)___ 557(@250wpm)___ 464(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 139147 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 696(@200wpm)___ 557(@250wpm)___ 464(@300wpm)
“He’s coming for a visit next week,” I said faux-blithely.
Scott’s lips thinned.
Louise’s eyes got big.
Yep.
Totally adopted.
They might not know (or they might, Luna might have told them, but she didn’t tell me if she did, and I was glad she didn’t share that intel with me) what had happened to my family, but they knew my dad was not a big part of my life.
And Scott, especially, did not like it.
Luna was now in our huddle.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
“Her dad is coming for a visit,” Scott told her.
Luna’s mouth dropped open.
I waved a hand—yes, you guessed it—fake-airily. “It’s not a big deal.”
“He’s never been here,” Luna pointed out.
“I know,” I replied.
“In eight years,” she went on.
“I know,” I repeated.
“You’ve never been home,” she continued.
“I know,” I said yet again.
“What’s up with that?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” I replied. “I’ll call him later. Tomorrow.”
Or the next day.
Or when I dropped off Cleo on Sunday, climbed into Tweety, and drove to Reno, whereupon I’d text him and say I was sorry to miss him, but I was on vacation, lady luck was smiling at me, I was up at the craps table, so I couldn’t possibly come home to share some father/daughter time.
I didn’t play craps or gamble at all (I couldn’t buy second-hand Prada sunglasses if I did), but obviously, Dad didn’t know that.
Luna opened her mouth.
“Leave it,” Scott ordered firmly.
He might be a progressive liberal, animal-loving, craft-beer-drinking, TEVA-wearing, affordable-housing advocate.
But when he wanted his word to be law, it was just that.
Thus, Luna shut her mouth.
“I gotta do a water loop,” I said before handing out good-bye hugs and making a beeline for the water pitchers.
I’d done the loop and taken and put in an order for some of Lucia’s pulled barbecue chicken and cheddar nachos, Scott and Louise were gone, and Luna was all up in my space.
“You okay?” she asked.
“Sure,” I answered.
“Don’t pull that bull,” she warned.
I sighed.
Then I said, “I’ll call him. Later. Tomorrow. When I have time to emotionally handle it.”
“I’ll come over,” she stated immediately.
God, I loved this bitch.
“That would be cool.”
She socked my arm.
I looked to Jessie.
She winked reassuringly at me.
Luna had blabbed.
I smiled at her.
Then I got to work.
SEVEN
IT CAME NATURAL
At 5:28, there was a knock on my door.
Not a buzz up from the gate.
A knock on my door.
This guy held wild magic.
But at least he didn’t just let himself in this time.
I rubbed my lip-glossed lips together nervously, because I played the field, I flirted, I dated, I enjoyed the sexual side of myself, and liked all that.
But I was twenty-seven.
I thought maybe I might want kids one day (that was a big maybe).
What I knew was that I wanted a partner, even a husband (though my wedding would not be traditional, just a ceremony somewhere cool and a big party afterward, then, of course, a fuck-a-thon honeymoon).
I wanted someone to spend time with, to share my life with, to make memories with, to create history with. Someone who got me. Someone who would help lighten the load of day-to-day responsibilities.
Someone who loved me.
I wasn’t immune to understanding that the carefree part of being my age was winding down, and I might need to start getting serious about finding that person.
And straight up, Cap had the hallmarks of all I would want in that person.
A brief, and far from exhaustive list: He was hot. He had a great laugh. Beautiful hands. Steady job. A protective streak. Didn’t play games about the fact he was into me. He liked Luna. And he had great taste in music and movies.
I mean, one word: Babe.
The guy had been in foster care and could pick up a two-hundred-pound man and toss him through the air, and he’d picked a sweet story about an orphaned pig who wanted to be a sheepdog as one of his favorite movies.
So, yeah.
I was nervous.
I was also nervous about the fact that, all day, I’d successfully ignored Clarice Davis’s visit, but Luna had texted fifteen minutes ago to share she’d taken a photo of her business card and she had set an appointment for us at ten in the a.m. on Monday.
I was leaning toward dropping that stuff altogether. It was getting way too weird.
But now Luna, who hadn’t been a fan, was all over it.
And I wasn’t sure that was a good thing.
Although I’d bought a new dress and shoes, since we were still in summer and I was still rocking the honey tan I allowed myself to have when I hung out on my off days at the pool (the trees did offer some sun, you just had to chase it around with copious lounger changes), I decided on the white outfit Luna suggested as a kind of end-of-summer farewell.
Not to mention, it was girlie at the same time as it was sexy as all hell.