Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 98736 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 494(@200wpm)___ 395(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98736 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 494(@200wpm)___ 395(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
We try to take at least one day off during the week, but we also have paid vacation time. We hardly ever use it, but I did take tomorrow as a day so that I can help my dad finish up the back deck that he started on their house. He started it last weekend, but I worked late Saturday. I helped on Sunday, but it’s still not finished. I’m hoping we can wrap it up today, and tomorrow I can just chill and wait for Emerson to get out of class. I chuckle as I drive toward my parents’ when I realize I’m a thirty-year-old man waiting for his secret twenty-year-old girlfriend to get out of her college classes so I can talk to her.
I should be ashamed, but my heart won’t let me. We’re both adults, and I can be honest with myself at least when I say that I love the hell out of that girl.
After parking my truck in the driveway of my parents' place, I head into the house, calling out for them.
“In the kitchen,” Dad calls back.
“Something smells good,” I say, kissing Mom on the cheek and giving Dad a pat on the shoulder before taking a seat at the table beside him.
“Your mom made her homemade cinnamon rolls.”
“I’m making lunch too. Chicken and dumplings. One of your favorites.”
“You spoil me, woman,” I tell her.
“Leave her be. She misses having you home, and she enjoys it,” Dad says.
“Dad, I haven’t lived at home for a decade.”
He nods. “I know, but you are still our son, and we miss you.”
“Well, I’m here for you to put me to work for the next two days. Today is my day off, and I took tomorrow as well. We’re going to wrap this deck up so that it’s done and off your plate.”
“Thanks, Rome. I only have one side of the railing that needs to be finished. Joe and Larry came over yesterday and we got a lot of it done.”
“That was nice of them.”
“Your aunts bribed them.” Dad laughs.
I hold my hands up. “You can stop there. I don’t need the details.”
“Mind straight to the gutter.” Mom shakes her head, but she’s smiling.
“This isn’t my first rodeo,” I tell them as my phone alerts me to a message. I quickly dig into my pocket, hoping it’s from Emerson. I smile when I see her name.
* * *
Emerson: Well, I didn’t plan on wearing my coffee this morning, but here I am.
* * *
It’s followed by a picture of her light-colored jeans covered in what I assume is her coffee.
* * *
Me: You okay? Did you burn yourself?
* * *
Emerson: I’m fine. It was lukewarm at best. I went to the library early to study and stopped to get it on my way, so yeah, it wasn’t a huge loss, and the cup was only maybe a quarter of the way full. Thankfully.
* * *
Me: I hate that, baby girl, but I’m glad you didn’t get burned. It could have been much worse.
* * *
Emerson: Facts. Missing you. Have a good day building that deck.
* * *
Me: Thanks. Text me later.
* * *
Emerson: Always.
* * *
I shove my phone back in my pocket and look up to find my parents staring at me. Dad is smirking and Mom has a grin from ear to ear lighting up her face.
“There he is,” she announces.
“I’ve been here the whole time.” I reach for a cinnamon roll and dive in.
“Oh, you were sitting here, but you were with whoever you were texting. Who is she?” Mom asks.
Fuck.
“Nosy.” I point my finger at her and she grins.
“Fine. Don’t tell me, but whoever she is, I like her already for putting that dopey, happy grin on your face.”
“Mom,” I groan, and they both laugh.
“Eat up,” Dad says. “I hope to finish today so you can take tomorrow off and do nothing. Or… something.” He winks, and my shoulders shake with laughter.
I love my parents. They’re supportive and not pushy. I know it’s killing my mom not to pry and beg to meet the mystery woman, but they’re letting me take this at my own pace. She’d truly flip her lid if she knew that she already knows and adores the woman who has stolen my heart. I’ve never brought anyone home to meet them. I never wanted to.
Not until Emerson.
I finish scarfing down my cinnamon roll, thank Mom with a kiss on her cheek, and follow Dad out to the back deck to get to work.
I’m stepping out of the shower when my phone rings. I make a dash for the sink where I left it, not willing to miss a call or a text from Emerson. I’m aware of how whipped that makes me sound, and I’m okay with it. I miss her like fucking crazy. Those calls and text messages are our lifeline. I smile when I see it’s a call.