Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 91149 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91149 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Foster reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a black velvet box. My heart flutters as I take it from him. When I open it, I see it’s the exact bracelet he got Bowie Jane with the same guitar charm.
“It’s not much,” he says almost bashfully. “But it reminded me of you.”
“Thank you. That’s so thoughtful. I love it.”
Foster takes it from the box and I hold out my wrist for him to clasp it on. I twist it left and right, admiring it. My head tips up to look at him. “Thank you,” I say slowly so he understands the depth of feeling behind it. “That means a lot.”
Going to my tiptoes, I touch his jaw with my palm and press my mouth to his. He angles his head and the kiss immediately deepens.
It’s only the sound of a sputtering car pulling up to the curb that has me stepping back. We both turn to see Leo getting out of his junker that has lived more lives than I can count. I don’t move away from Foster but instead let my hand drop to link my fingers through his. Leo knows we’re dating so this won’t be a surprise to him.
Leo is Leo, dressed as if he’s ready to walk onstage. Dark hair tousled as if he just rolled out of bed complements his fair, inked skin where tattoos peek out from under his sleeves and leather bracelets adorn his wrists. He’s wearing a vintage Eagles T-shirt, slightly faded, tucked loosely into well-worn slim-fit black jeans and a pair of ratty Vans. He’s wearing a beat-up leather jacket that I bought him for Christmas probably seven years ago.
Leo trots up the porch, eyes on Foster, and holds out his hand. “Hey, man.” Foster goes to shake but Leo goes for the fist bump so they do an awkward slap at each other. “You staying for dinner?”
“On my way to the airport,” Foster says, and I can’t help but think he actually looks grateful for that obligation.
“I’ll take care of your girl for you,” Leo says, giving me a wink.
“Pretty sure she can take care of herself,” he replies, and his tone is curt. Is he… jealous?
No way. He knows Leo is just a friend and Foster’s far too confident to be concerned.
Leo doesn’t seem to think anything’s wrong and he asks Foster, “You coming Saturday?”
“Saturday?”
“Yeah… we have a big gig at that new downtown brewery.”
Foster looks pointedly at me as he responds to Leo. “I didn’t know about it.”
I flush with guilt. “I would have invited you, but I don’t want to impede on your time with Bowie Jane.”
Thankfully, there’s no annoyance in his tone. “I get it and I appreciate it. But let me be the one to decide, okay?” He waits expectantly and I nod. “And I’d love to come. I can get a babysitter for her that night. Can I invite some teammates?”
“The more, the merrier,” Leo says. “And if you have any connections in the music industry, invite them too.”
Foster gives Leo an apologetic smile. “Sorry, man… all my contacts are athletes.”
“Bummer,” Leo says.
Foster bends down, gives me a quick kiss and whispers, “I’ll miss you.”
My hand presses into his chest, right over his heart. “Miss you too.”
“Send me lots of photos of trick-or-treating.” Foster peers down at me earnestly. “And well… lots of other photos too.”
“I always do. Prepared to be inundated with photos of Bowie Jane. I’ll overwhelm you.”
Foster smiles softly at me. “You already do.”
My heart melts at the earnest admission of the effect I have on him and then goes gooey when he kisses the inside of my wrist where the charm lays. He releases me, pivots and trots down the steps. I don’t move until he pulls away in his truck.
Leo and I turn to head inside. “Dude,” he drawls dramatically, “that guy is head over heels for you.”
That’s good to know from an outside observer because I feel the same way about him.
♦
Later that night, after Bowie Jane has had her bath, talked to her mom via FaceTime, and played some guitar, I go through the ritual we’ve developed to tuck her in when her dad is gone.
She brushes her teeth and picks a book off one of her many shelves. While Bowie Jane is a fantastic reader, our girl time is for me to read to her. She’s currently reading the Harry Potter series—she’s on The Prisoner of Azkaban.
She climbs into bed, fluffs her pillows against the headboard, and scoots over to let me sit beside her. We lean back, shoulder to shoulder, and I open the book to where she left off reading. She always finishes a chapter, never leaving off in the middle of one.
I note she’s on Chapter 24. I clear my throat but before I can get the first words out, she says, “Thank you for taking me to your family dinner. Landon and Mason are awesome. It felt like I had big brothers.”