Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 55550 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 278(@200wpm)___ 222(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55550 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 278(@200wpm)___ 222(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
I look at Ana. “You did this?”
She beams and nods. “Goldie brought home a note saying they needed volunteers and I figured since I’m here, I might as well make myself useful. So, while she was in class, I started helping with the planning.”
“I’m happy to see you’re trying to fit in, Ana.”
“Me, too. Now come on before our daughter rips our arms off.”
We let go of Goldie’s hands and follow her around. Ana takes a lot of photos of Goldie and me, and I take pictures of her and Goldie. A few people offer to take one of the three of us, but we decline. It’s not that we don’t want one, this isn’t the place to do them.
While we wait in line, I scan the area for Lemon, looking over heads, around people and everywhere else I can, but don’t see her. I figured she’d be here, but maybe this is something she skips. Not that I can blame her. It’s loud and the kids are a bit wild.
Goldie is intent on throwing a pie at her gym teacher. Thankfully, the teacher is sitting rather close to the table with the whip cream pies, so the little kids have a chance. Goldie counts out the tickets needed and picks her pie. Ana has her phone out and is videoing as our daughter hurls a pie at her teacher. I don’t know what this teacher did to my daughter, but Goldie throws a perfect shot right to his face.
Smack!
Goldie cheers, fist pumping and giving me a high-five.
“Mommy, did you get it?”
“I did, pumpkin. Nice job!”
“So, what did you do to my daughter for her to want to throw a pie at you?” I ask the gym teacher I oddly have no idea who he is.
He wipes whipped cream from his face and sighs. “I made the mistake of calling her Goldilocks. She didn’t like that.”
“You do know Goldilocks is blonde?” Ana asks him.
He nods. “Believe me, I learned really fast.”
Ana and I laugh and turn toward the next booth, only to stop when Lemon comes near us, looking absolutely amazing in her Magnolia Grove tracksuit. Hell, she looks amazing in everything she wears, and even more when she isn’t wearing anything.
Lemon smiles at us and looks from me to Ana and back to me. Suddenly, I feel securitized. Should I have stayed home? Does she think I can’t commit to her because of Ana?
“Ana, the decorations came out better than we envisioned.”
Ana looks around while I look stumped.
“They did. Great call on the wall of balloons instead of the arch. People are taking photos in front of it. It’s perfect.”
“Wade, thank you for donating again this year.”
I groan. I have a bad feeling about this auction. “Of course.”
“He didn’t want to,” Ana says.
“But I made him,” Goldie adds.
“Well, whoever gets landscaping services from Jenkins Landscaping will be very lucky. Have fun. I’ll see you later.”
Lemon is gone before I can say anything. My heart sinks to the ground. I fear that whatever we have is over.
Ana keeps Goldie overnight, which makes sulking even easier for me. I drop them off at my parents and then walk back to my house. Ana could’ve driven me home, but I need the time to clear my head. I need to accept that things are over between Lemon and me. I don’t blame her. She had trouble with Goldie to start and now Ana, I’d avoid me too.
When I get home, I realize it’s too lonely and getting a dog makes sense. Then I wouldn’t be by myself, and I’d have someone to comfort me right now. I keep the lights off and head into the kitchen, grab a beer from the fridge, and head to the back porch.
I sit back in the chair, rest my feet on the railing and drink my sorrows away. I was a fool to think Lemon and I could exist in this world together, the way I live. It’s not fair to her and I should probably tell her to move on. Her moving on though means she’ll probably move away, which might be best for us. I’m not sure I can live in a town where I see her every day, and I wouldn’t expect her to stay here and see me every day. Especially now.
After emptying the first bottle, I head back into the kitchen and grab my second, pop the top, and take a long swig from the bottle. A knock on the door catches me off guard. I flip the porch light on and open the door to find Lemon standing there.
“Hey,” I say on the other side of the screen door.
“Can I come in?”
I push the screen door open with my finger, thankful it wasn’t latched and step aside. Once she crosses the threshold, I close the front door, encasing us in the darkness.