Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 83020 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83020 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
It’s exactly what we all needed, and I find myself smiling. For a few moments, just a blink in time, I don’t feel as if the weight of the world is pressing down on my shoulders.
“But Jessica Rabbit is okay?” Spade asks after the laughter dies down, drawing out another round.
“Jessica Rabbit is second rate to Daphne,” Ugly adds.
“Daphne?” I ask.
“You know, from Scooby Doo?”
Silence fills the room.
“Really?” Legend asks.
Ugly shrugs. “She’s a redhead.”
“Orange,” Boomer counters. “Her hair was orange.”
The conversation continues exactly like that, grown men arguing over which drawn character was the hottest. They discuss She-Ra, Catwoman, and Wonder Woman. Bugs Bunny dressed as a girl even gets an honorable mention and a weird sigh escapes from Spade when someone brings up Betty Rubble from The Flintstones.
Time feels normal for a few precious minutes, but it’s over all too soon when Apollo mentions needing to grab Nate so April can feed him. I walk alongside him, my smile beginning to fade with each step I have to take back into my miserable reality.
Chapter 5
Alyssa
I can’t recall a single instance where I was openly disliked. I’m nice, personable even. I’ve always made friends easily and had no issues with bullying or mean looks in high school or college. My history as someone who gets along with everyone I encounter is what makes me realize that Harley Cobreski just… hates me.
I don’t want to be hated. Knowing the man doesn’t like me at all makes me want to smile more and be friendlier, but he was no more impressed by my jovial mood this morning than he was when he walked in and freaked out about me singing the song his wife used to sing to Aria. It was an honest mistake borne from being new, and even Misty and Em didn’t know not to sing that song.
Or maybe had they been the ones to be caught doing it, it wouldn’t have mattered. I just can’t wrap my head around the fact that it may just be me he has a serious distaste for, and honestly, it’s bothering me more than it should.
It kept me awake last night, more so than anything else.
Okay, that’s not exactly true. My fear of being alone in the house got me out of bed, dressed, and texting Boomer that I was coming to the clubhouse. I couldn’t invite a man in alone that I’d just met, and there are so many people at the clubhouse that I’m certain someone would come running if I was being hurt and needed help.
That’s how I ended up on the couch in the clubhouse living room with a small bag of clothes and hygiene items tucked away in the daycare closet.
I didn’t ask Boomer not to tell anyone because it didn’t cross my mind that I’d need to, but from the way Misty has been looking in my direction most of the day, I have a feeling she somehow knows.
I was busy with another child this morning when Harley dropped Aria off, but I made a point to smile and greet him from across the room. I got that same brusque nod I got yesterday when he picked her up. The man speaks. I’ve heard him chatting with numerous guys if we happen to end up in the same room while I’m taking my lunch break. He just doesn’t want to speak to me.
As much as I vowed to wow him with niceties, I find myself freezing in the middle of the room, heart racing, when he walks in to pick up Aria this afternoon. All the bravado I managed to build throughout the day is nowhere to be found. My eyes dart around the room, hoping someone else will approach him and give him a rundown of Aria’s day, but everyone else is busy.
My gut twists as I walk closer to him, but I manage to keep a bright smile on my face. The man never gives me a second look so there’s very little chance he’ll realize the smile is fake.
“Good afternoon, Harley.” He grunts, giving me that same disinterested nod. “Aria had a great day. She ate all of her lunch and took a good nap.”
His eyes skate over me, and I imagine him thinking that I should just walk away and let him get his kid in peace, but Em was adamant that we let the parents know how their child did—the good and the bad.
“Three wet and one soiled diaper,” I continue as he reaches into the crib to grab a still sleeping Aria.
He cradles the baby in his arms, and I keep my gaze locked on his face. Seeing her for the first time after he’s been away is the only time the man looks serene. It’s the only moment where the clouds fade from his eyes and a small smile plays on his lips. Looking down at her, he brushes his palm over the top of her head, and he must do that often because more often than not, her head smells of masculine soap rather than baby wash.