Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 70582 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70582 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
“Love you. Be good.”
“I’m always good.” She grins, and I grin back. She is always good—except when she’s being a hellion.
I kiss her cheek, then set her down. “Have fun.”
Fawn smiles, and I give her a quick hug before taking off.
I stop off at the store and exchange the movies I rented yesterday at Redbox for new ones. I also pick up some bread and bananas and get myself a Danish and a coffee. When I make it to Courtney’s twenty minutes later, I wonder if I should have called to tell her I was on my way. I push that thought aside and knock.
“Hey.” She smiles at me through a small crack.
I frown, wondering if she checked her peephole before opening up. I wondered the same thing last night.
“Did you check to see it was me?” I ask as she steps back to let me inside.
“What?”
“You live alone in New York City. Did you check the peephole before you opened the door?”
“I . . .” She looks at the door, then me, clearly confused. “No one else but you and Abby has ever come by.”
“You need to check who’s here before you unlock your door, babe. It’s not safe.”
“Okay . . .”
The word is drawn out, and I can tell by the set of her brows that she’s still confused. Hell, I’m confusing myself with my overprotective demand. When I was married to Eva—before we brought Maddi home—I didn’t even worry about the door being locked when she was home alone.
“How are you feeling?” She looks better. Her color is back, and her eyes seem more alive than they did last evening.
“Better. A little tired, but a lot better.”
“Good.” I lean down and kiss her cheek, then move to the kitchen. “Have you eaten?” I ask over my shoulder.
“No. I got up just a few minutes ago. Sorry about passing out on you last night.” She toys with the edge of her tank top like she’s nervous.
“You needed to rest,” I say, then hold up the bag of bread I brought with me. “How about some toast? It should be gentle enough on your stomach.”
“Sure.” She lifts her hands to her hair and frowns. “I’m going to do something with this mess so you don’t have to look at it.”
“You look gorgeous,” I tell her. She does. Even when she’s not feeling her best, she’s still perfect.
“Thanks.” She ducks her head in embarrassment. “I’ll be right back.”
I go about making her some tea and toast. When she comes back out of her bedroom, her beautiful hair is down. She’s wearing a pair of tight black leggings—which show off everything—and a black tank top with a hoodie unzipped over it.
“Here you go.” I hand her the tea and plate of toast after she settles on one of the chairs at the table just outside the kitchen. Taking a seat across from her, I sip my coffee and take out my apple Danish.
“Where’s Maddi today?”
“With my brother’s wife,” I say.
She nods, looking thoughtful.
“Can I ask you something?” She sounds like she really doesn’t want to ask whatever it is that’s on her mind.
“Shoot.” I relax back in the chair.
“Where is Maddi’s mom?”
Fuck.
“You don’t have to tell me. I was just curious, but it’s none of my business.” She looks away.
I study her, wondering how much I should tell her. Part of me doesn’t want to taint what we are building by filling her in on my past, but if I want her to share with me, I know I’m going to have to do the same in return.
“Her mom lives with her boyfriend, in Connecticut. Since our divorce she’s seen Maddi maybe a half dozen times. It sucks, because Maddi misses her—or rather misses the idea of her. She was never the most loving mom. Still, she’s the only mom Maddi knows, so it hurts that she’s not around.”
“In a year she’s only seen her daughter a half dozen times?” she asks, her voice filled with disbelief.
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“She’s got a boyfriend who isn’t hip on the idea of dating a woman with a kid. She doesn’t have Maddi visit her, and she doesn’t come to the city very often to see Maddi.”
“Oh my god. You’re not serious.”
“I wish I wasn’t.” I take another sip of my coffee.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. I’m not sorry. I know I should be. I know that I should want her in our daughter’s life, but when she was around, Maddi was always on edge, trying to be perfect because her mom expected her to be. She couldn’t even laugh at the dinner table, because Eva considered that playing around and would get pissed. I didn’t grow up like that, and I don’t want my girl to grow up like that, either.”
“I understand that, but it’s still sad that she’s going to grow up knowing that her mom didn’t put her first.”