Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 86158 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86158 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
“What the hell was he thinking?” my mom asked in disbelief.
“He was thinking that he wanted to bring his date home with him,” I replied around the knot in my throat. “He didn’t know that we knew her.”
“His date,” my mom spat.
“It’s fine,” I said, leaning my head on her shoulder. “I told him that I had to much going on to date him—”
“Which one?” my mom asked. “Redhead or brunette?”
“Tabitha,” I replied, still leaning on her. “Brunette.”
“Ugh,” she said in commiseration. “Pretty but mean.”
“In a nutshell,” I agreed.
“Stupid,” my dad said, shaking his head slowly.
“He didn’t know,” I argued tiredly.
“He knows he’s hung up on you,” my dad said simply. “Takin’ someone else out is stupid.”
“Can’t argue with that,” my mom agreed.
“He’s obviously not,” I retorted.
“Please,” my mom said with a laugh. “If he was any more into you he’d be following you around like a lost puppy.”
“He’s dating other people,” I countered.
“Thought we already concluded that he’s not firin’ on all cylinders,” my dad pointed out.
I didn’t want to talk about Bishop. Not with my parents or anyone else. Not while the burn of betrayal still tingled under my skin.
“He’ll come running back,” my mom said reassuringly. “They always do.”
“Maybe I don’t want him to,” I replied.
Both my parents started laughing. It was both annoying and infuriating.
“Charlie Bear,” my dad said, reaching out to pat my hand. “Don’t lie to yourself.”
“He’s banging other people.”
“You love him,” my mom said, rolling her eyes. “And you already know that he hasn’t actually done anything wrong.”
“One,” I grit out through my teeth. “I never said I loved him. And two, he’s clearly not in love with me if he’s been banging Tabitha of all people.”
“Men are idiots,” my mom said, making my dad huff with laughter. “They’ll bang anything when they’re lonely.”
“Low hanging fruit,” my dad added. “If things are hard, we gravitate to what’s easy.”
“Watch it,” my mom said, raising an eyebrow.
“Not sayin’ she’s easy,” my dad clarified. “Don’t even know her. I’m sayin’ the situation with her was easy. No feelin’ or stress. No commitment.”
“I don’t care,” I said, smacking the table. “I don’t care if he technically wasn’t doing anything wrong. He can’t stick with easy. Fuck him.”
“Alright,” my mom said firmly. “Fuck him.”
“Fuck him,” my dad repeated.
“I’m not bringing him coffee tomorrow,” my mom announced.
“I’ll spit on him,” my dad replied. “What’s he gonna do about it?”
“Ooh, that’s a good one,” my mom said, nodding. “I’ll pretend like he’s not even there.”
“We won’t even acknowledge him,” my dad agreed. “Except the spitting.”
“Just stay out of it,” I ordered. “Both of you.”
My parents both smiled.
“You’re not funny,” I grumbled. “None of this is funny.”
“I know,” my mom said, kissing the side of my head with a loud smacking noise. “But it’ll all work out. I promise.”
“Come on,” my dad said, standing up. “Shit’ll seem easier after you get some sleep.”
“He’s right,” my mom said as she followed him.
A few minutes later, I was tucked in next to my mom. They hadn’t even mentioned making the kitchen table into a bed, just got into their queen at the end of the trailer and scooted over so I could slide in next to her. It reminded me of when I was little and I’d crawl in with them after a nightmare. I always climbed in next to my mom, never my dad, because I’d needed them both but I’d always needed her more. I’d wanted her to know I was there so she’d wrap her arm around my waist and curl around me, protecting me from everything.
That night, even with the smell of my mom’s hair in my nose, I couldn’t find my way to sleep. I thought about how I’d revamp the cart, what colors I wanted to paint it, what supplies I needed to buy for the list of new drinks that I hadn’t had a chance to make yet. I refused to let my mind wander to Bishop.
I wasn’t ready to think logically yet. Thinking about Bishop was like prodding at a sore tooth, I couldn’t seem to help myself and then as soon as I let my mind wander in his direction I remembered exactly why I didn’t want to touch that particular soft spot yet. It was too raw.
I’d let myself believe that neither of us was interested in anyone else. That he’d wait. That it would all work out. It was my own fault, really.
I’d been so sure about us that I’d walked away, believing it would be temporary.
I was almost as angry at myself as I was with him.
I watched the sun come up behind the curtains and smiled as I heard my dad quietly get out of bed. He cursed under his breath as he dropped something heavy on the floor, and then I heard him curse again.