Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 95307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Our little family.
I shove the card into my desk drawer and gather up my belongings, all while wearing a smile on my face. The Corner Grill has always been a favorite of mine. That’s something he’d remember too. I have to admit, Harrison is doing quite well on this whole “dating” thing. My favorite flowers, and now my favorite restaurant.
It’s hard to juggle my bag and the vase of flowers, but I manage and slip out the side door of the school, effectively avoiding any of the other teachers at our small preschool through fifth-grade school. Lady luck must be on my side as I belt in the vase to the passenger seat of my newly acquired rental car, hop behind the wheel, and pull out of our lot. Surely word has gotten around to my colleagues that I had a special delivery this afternoon. It was only a matter of time before everyone and their brother “dropped in” for a friendly Friday after-school chat.
Slowly, so that I don’t spill the water, I make my way to my house, loving the fragrant scent of flowers that fill the car. You couldn’t scrape my smile off my face with a putty knife. When I pull into the driveway, I notice Harrison’s truck is gone. Since I went back to work Wednesday, he did as well, but he’s almost always arriving home at the same time I have been.
I park in my spot and climb out. I slip around and unlock the back door of the house, leaving it open to let the spring breeze in, and head back out to retrieve the vase. My nose instantly drops down as I inhale such a wonderful scent. Oh, yes, he definitely earned a few bonus points for this one. They display beautifully in the center of the table, especially when the sunlight hits the pink glass.
Heading back to my bedroom, I think about tonight. What does my ex-husband have planned? Is it just dinner or will there be something afterward?
And then my mind goes to afterward.
Our relationship hasn’t progressed past a few stolen pecks on the cheek or brushes across my lips. He’s held my hand and has welcomed me into his arms for snuggling during a movie last night, but that’s it. I know he still wants me—the proof was plastered on my leg earlier in the week—but he hasn’t acted on anything or led me to believe more is coming soon.
Do I want more?
I’m pretty sure that answer is yes, but how soon, and will I regret it when it happens?
I never really regretted it when we fell into bed mere minutes after our divorce was final, but how can I regret something that created something so wonderful? Even after we got past the awkward stage and he left, I never felt an ounce of guilt or remorse. Instead, I felt a slight bit of comfort and a little bit of closure.
Of course, all that has been thrown out the window now, hasn’t it?
After making sure the door is locked, I head to my bedroom, strip off my work clothes, and move to the bathroom. The garden tub is calling me, and I’m fortunate to have plenty of time to get ready for the evening. The room starts to fill with the calming scent of lavender as I drop a bath bomb in and grab a fresh razor. Making sure my hair is up and won’t get wet, I slowly slide into the warm water, grateful for this extra time. I can’t stay in long, knowing I had to give up hot baths when I became pregnant, so I make sure the water is at a slightly cooler temperature than normal. Just enough that I’m still able to relax. It’s heaven.
Before I finish my bath, I take a few minutes to shave my legs, armpits, and other lady bits, as well as run my loofah and body wash over every square inch of my body. When I deem myself finished, I carefully step out, mindful of the baby nestled in my lower abdomen. After smearing lotion everywhere, I head to the closet for tonight’s outfit. What exactly does one wear on a date with her ex-husband, with whom she happens to be having a child with?
Yeah, I don’t know either.
I settle on a pair of fitted jeans, wedge heels, and a blue flowy top. It has short sleeves, so I make sure to grab a black sweater too. By the time I’m completely ready, the alarm clock on my nightstand says 5:45. I also notice I haven’t heard Harrison come home. After securing my watch and throwing in the stud diamonds he bought me for our first anniversary, I head off in search of my date.
His room is empty.
Panic starts to set in.