Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 27552 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 138(@200wpm)___ 110(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27552 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 138(@200wpm)___ 110(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)
I press my foot against his still hand, and he resumes rubbing my swollen feet. "Give yourself some credit for being a decent human.”
He smirks.
I roll my eyes. “A decent human, at times.”
“A reminder that you’re the one who pushed King and I together when we did everything in our power to pull ourselves apart.”
"Pffft, the two of you were so perfect for each other, you could be blind and deaf and still know you were meant to be.”
"I think there’s more to it. I think you knew we'd be happy. That he'd be happy.''
"That, or I just didn't want you to leave so I made sure you'd stay. It's more selfish than you’re making it out to be."
"Uh, huh. You keep telling yourself that, Prep. Meanwhile, you're here rubbing my feet and watching Disney movies with the kids. But I promise, your secret good parenting and being a good friend is safe with me.”
“You know I love me some motherfucking Disney,” Preppy replies.
“I love me some motherfucking Disney, too!” Bo chimes in, repeating his father’s words. He’s the only child not sitting on the floor. Instead, he’s sitting with his legs crisscrossed on the recliner wearing a pink and yellow plaid bow tie that matches Preppy’s.
Preppy tries to hide his crooked smile and narrows his eyes at his son. “Bo, what did we say about using those kinds of words?”
Bo recites his answer without apology, like he’s remembering them from a textbook. “Not to say them in front of my mother, my sisters, or my teachers because they don't understand that swearing is a sign of emotional intelligence according to recent medical psychological studies in major publications. And socially not acceptable for an eight-year-old to use in public because it makes mom look like she’s not doing her job when we all know that my terrible language is all your fault.”
Preppy nods. “That’s right.”
Bo points to the TV. "But Disney movies are motherfucking awesome because behind all the singing and princesses, they’re really morbid. Did you know that Moana is one of the few Disney movies where the parents don't die in the beginning? Although the grandma kicks it, but then, she becomes a stingray, so that’s pretty awesome.”
"Yeah, it is pretty awesome,” I reply. I look from Bo to Preppy. “You know, he might not be your blood, but he is so your kid.” I chuckle. “In every way.”
"Yeah, yeah he is. But, he's smarter than I'll ever be,” Preppy says, staring at his son.
"I think he’s smarter than any of us will ever be,” I add.
Bo takes a handful of popcorn and shoves it into his mouth. “That’s true because my IQ is one fifty six. Technically, I’m smarter than 97% of the population will ever be.'' He turns back to the movie.
“He’s right. We need to work on our whispering skills,” I whisper as low as I can manage. “You know, it’s crazy seeing you as a dad, Preppy. Do you ever miss the way things were before you had kids?”
Preppy frowns. “What? Like do I miss having sex with anyone and anything in any manner of my choosing without giving a fuck if it’s wrong or right or demented?”
“Something like that.”
“Nope. And let’s face it, in most ways, I’m still the same ole me. I’m married, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t find most bitches––I mean, women––sexy as fuck anymore. And it doesn’t mean that I still don’t want to do horrible, deplorable, dirty—”
I cut him off. “I get it.”
“The only difference is that now I only want to do those things with Doc.” He looks to where the twins are both asleep on their stomachs next to the equally passed out Max and Sammy, then back to Bo, who has a notebook on his lap, scribbling in the pages. “You already know I didn’t have a family growing up. Now, I get to be in one. My only goal is not to fuck them up too much and let them be themselves.”
Tears well up in my eyes. I try to hide them by turning back to the tv while willing them away.
Preppy pauses his hands on my foot. “You okay, kid? You seem a bit off, and I’m an expert at sexual frustration, but this seems like something else. You normally laugh when I say stupid shit, and now the laugh either isn’t there or…I don’t know, just not what it used to be.”
Great, another person that’s going to be asking me if I’m okay every twenty minutes. I force a smile. “I’m fine. I really am. It’s just a sweet movie. And you know, hormones and shit.” I sniffle.
Preppy’s frown says bullshit, and I can feel his gaze penetrating my façade through my temple. “It wasn’t that sweet. And I’m not just talking about today either. You’ve been like this for a while now.”