Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 76381 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76381 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
I mean, it sounded insane, but I felt like I’d all but fallen completely in love with him over the course of one night.
When he’d shown back up at the hospital with clothes for me. Because he knew I was wet and freezing. Then he’d just… stayed. Been a rock for me. Brought us coffee and hot chocolate. Made plans to help us feel safe in our home again. Then actually come and installed all of those systems himself.
I knew, logically, I hadn’t fallen in love with the man because of that. It was just the shock and relief of not being alone, of having someone strong enough to rely on.
Hell, I was feeling a little weepy just remembering that feeling.
I prided myself on being independent. On being strong. But, God, it was exhausting. It was a tiredness that worked its way into your bones, into your marrow. For just one night, having someone be there, take the reins, give me a break had been surprisingly emotional.
“Mom?” Daphne called.
“Yeah?”
“The food store?”
“Right. Ah, yeah. Okay. What kind of cookies do you want to make?”
“What’s his favorite kind?”
“I don’t know.”
“Mommm.”
“What? I’m sorry. We didn’t quite get to favorite cookies yet,” I said, rolling my eyes at her.
“I guess chocolate chip then. Who doesn’t like chocolate chip?”
With that, we went to the grocery store then home. Where Daphne insisted we get started on the cookies right away.
And by “we,” I mean “me.” While Daphne sat on the stool watching and critiquing. Until, a few hours later, we had a plate piled high with perfect little round pillows of deliciousness.
“Can we bring them to him?” she asked when I was just about to go and take off my bra and settle in for the night, mind on some leftover pasta. Maybe a glass of wine. Or two.
What can I say? Despite the new locks and self-defense items, I was having trouble sleeping. I jumped at every sound in the building. I was suspicious of every shadow. I checked on Daphne almost compulsively.
A glass of wine might just allow me to actually get a full night of sleep for a change.
“Mom?” Daphne called.
“Hm? Sorry. What?”
“Can we bring the cookies to Callow?”
“Right now?” I asked.
“They’re better when they’re fresh,” she insisted, a dog with a bone about the issue.
I didn’t know why I was feeling so hesitant.
No, that was a lie.
It was because I hadn’t heard from him.
True, the phone rang both ways, but I couldn’t seem to make myself reach out first. Not even to thank him again for being there for me.
And the longer the silence went on, the more I was convinced that he’d had time to sit with everything and decided he didn’t want to pursue things further with me.
That insecurity had been unexpectedly debilitating.
“I guess,” I agreed, reaching to open the drawer to pull out the aluminum foil to wrap up the top of the plate of cookies.
“Right now?” Daphne asked.
“Yes, now,” I said, trying not to sound as reluctant as I felt as I slid into my shoes.
I didn’t even let myself go into the bathroom to pull my hair out of its ponytail or slather on a little lipstick or mascara.
“You’re going like that?” Daphne asked, gaze moving over me, clearly finding my look lacking.
It was my usual skinny jeans and a band tee but with a zip-up hoodie over it.
“Yeah. What’s wrong with it?” I asked.
To that, I got an eye roll. “Nothing, I guess,” she said in the most passive-aggressive way possible.
But I wasn’t going to get changed for a man who hadn’t reached out to me in a week. I wasn’t that desperate for attention, damnit.
“Why are you bringing that?” I asked when she snatched a book off of the coffee table on her way to the door.
“In case you and Callow want to, you know, talk or something,” she said, quickly turning off the door alarm then rushing out into the hall before I could question her any further.
I wasn’t going to sneak away and talk to Callow. Hell, I was hoping he wasn’t even in and we could just leave the cookies for him.
Fine, only a very small part of me wanted him to be out. It was the same part that was resisting the urge the whole ride to pull my hair down, fluff it up, and swipe on some lipstick. It was the insecure part of me. And I wasn’t going to feed into it.
Even on a Thursday night, there were several cars in the lot along with the usual bikes. And even before we climbed out of the car, I could hear the thump of music inside. Along with the high pitch trill of feminine laughter.
“Mom, come on,” Daphne said, stopping several feet ahead of me, her book tucked under her bad arm and the cookies in her good hand.