Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 73506 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 294(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73506 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 294(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
"You're a terrible liar, Ricco," she says adorably.
A sharp pang of guilt hits me right in the solar plexus.
Oh, honey. If you only knew.
I'm an excellent liar.
CHAPTER SEVEN
I. WANT. HIM.
Dani
When I get home, Jason wants all the juicy details. I feel like I'm betraying him because I can't tell him much of anything.
I don’t know what this is with Ricco. I don’t know who he is. All I know is my thoughts and feelings are starting to be consumed by thoughts of him.
I tell Jason what I can.
"You're right, the Montavio brothers definitely own it and… and I'm starting to wonder if maybe it was just an accident."
I feel as if I'm betraying my family, betraying my daughter for wanting to give up the chase so quickly. But my gut instinct says that digging deeper into this is going to give me answers I may not want.
There was another bag of groceries on my front steps when I arrived. Jason delights in the little package of artisan handmade crackers, the roasted peanuts, and the wedges of aged cheese. I find a bottle in the shape of a princess filled with juice and a bag of Emmy’s favorite popcorn.
I sit at the table with Jason, eating crackers and cheese with a glass of wine.
"Who’s your fairy godmother?" he asks with a twinkle in his eye.
"I have no idea. Probably somebody that knew me at work, or maybe a neighbor? I dunno. I guess it’s well-intentioned because they give us food that Emmy likes, and gift cards. I'm feeling it's just someone trying to be kind and generous."
Jason puts his cracker down and stares thoughtfully. "You know I don't like to think of things with a negative mindset, because I don't want to attribute ill intentions to people, but…" His voice trails off. "At the very least, we should put up some surveillance cameras, don't you think?"
"Sounds expensive," I say with a grimace.
Jason snorts, rolling his eyes at me. "Dani, do you have any idea how much it costs to get into Bella Notte?"
I shake my head with a grimace.
"Do I want to know?"
"You do not. Let's just say, surveillance cameras are definitely within the budget, and I will have them for you tomorrow."
A part of me doesn't want to know who's leaving these things for us. A part of me doesn't want to know a lot of things, because it's nice to assume others do the things they do for the right reasons. Sometimes it’s better not to know the truth of things because if you do, you might crumple beneath the weight of it.
I swallow a lump in my throat with another bite of cheese and cracker.
"So can you… babysit tomorrow again by chance? I swear I’ll bake you that banana bread you like with the walnuts and caramelized bananas…”
Jason shakes his head. "Babe, I’m sorry. I wish I could, but I’ve got tickets for a concert.”
Dates and concerts and plans. I’m not jealous at all.
“Oh no worries, I’ll figure it out.”
Wait. Do I have a date?
What am I doing?
I have to figure it out. Because yeah… I do have a date myself.
Early the next morning, Emmy climbs into bed with me and steals all the blankets. I snuggle up to her and hold her against my chest, her curly blonde hair askew. She’s so still and quiet when she rests, so peaceful. Nothing like the inquisitive, precocious little girl she is when she's awake.
I text Sarah.
Any chance you can babysit tonight?
The response comes almost instantaneously.
Of course! Spend an evening with my favorite little four-year-old? Don't mind if I do.
I'm distracted in the morning drop-off line at Emmy’s preschool. They have it set up so that parents can't walk up to the school building with the kids. Too many tearjerker moments from kids and their parents. So a teacher’s assistant comes to the car and helps the kids get into the school. Emmy waves her hand at me. "Don't forget tomorrow’s the parent coffee!"
Parent what? I stifle a groan.
I quickly take out my phone and do a search in my email for parent coffee.
There it is, right there, plain as day.
Please join us tomorrow morning for an early morning drop off coffee date! Coffee and donuts will be served. Come and mingle with our parents and teachers.
Fan-fucking-tastic. Mingle? I don't want to mingle with people I don't know. That sounds like torture.
Donuts will only add more curves to my curves and I don’t need that, and too much coffee makes me jumpy.
Do it for Emmy.
I grit my teeth when I remember that grin across her face as she reminded me about parent coffee.
It's fine, it'll be fine.
But now is the time when I need to compartmentalize. This is when I have to temporarily shift out of mom mode and into work mode because I want this business to work, goddammit. I take a deep breath and let it out slowly before I pull a protein bar from my bag and unwrap it, taking a big bite. Chewing methodically, barely tasting it, I scroll through my emails.