Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 100070 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100070 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
He wasn’t wrong. I considered his words for a minute before answering. “I talked to Ava and the splash park crew about it. They helped remind me that you would never hurt me. You’re a safe place, Parrish. And I haven’t had a safe place outside of the aunts for a really long time.”
I pulled his hand up and pressed a kiss to it. “And I couldn’t take the chance of losing you before I really even had you. I knew you deserved better than someone who didn’t at least try to be an equal partner. If I want to know all about you—which I do—then I have to be willing to share all about me.”
My face felt like it was on fire, but I believed what I was saying. He deserved it.
Parrish smiled at me. “We’re going to get custody of Marigold and live happily ever after, Diesel. I just know it.”
I was glad he felt that way. I wanted to give him his happy ending more than anything in the world. But life had never worked out that way for me in the past, and I knew better than to expect it to now. All I could hope for was that when the judge declared me unfit to be Marigold’s legal guardian, Parrish Partridge would be there to help pick up the pieces and put me back together.
19
Parrish
“I get it, girlie,” I told Mari, wiping the last bits of oatmeal from her face and hair with a baby wipe. “You’re an artist, and the world is your canvas. But here’s the deal: oatmeal is not an art medium. The kitchen looks like part of a gluten-free crime scene, and so does my work shirt.”
Mari grinned a drooling grin that showed off her four chiclet teeth and clapped her hands.
“Yes, you seem super remorseful. And while I know wearing clothes is seriously annoying, it’s getting too chilly for Splash Park Tuesdays, so if you want Daddy to take you to see your friends at Crafty Tuesdays at the library later, you’ve gotta let me put your sweater on. Are we gonna do this the hard way or the easy way?”
Mari babbled out a protest and deliberately pushed her leggings onto the floor next to the changing table, then looked up at me expectantly.
I mock-gasped. “I see. Hard way it is, then, Missy! I’m gonna getcha!” I bent over to blow a giant raspberry on her stomach, and she giggled with delight. While she was distracted, I popped a cute sweater over her head, then repeated the move to get each of her arms in the sleeves. “Ta-da! And that’s how that’s done.”
Out in the kitchen, I heard the back door slam as Diesel came in from feeding the animals.
“Parrish?”
“In here,” I called, though honestly it was pretty self-explanatory where I was. Diesel’s house was my home since it contained my two favorite people on the planet, but there was no denying it was cozy for the three of us.
A little too cozy.
Fortunately, I’d made a few calls about correcting that situation, and while nothing had panned out yet—the only house for sale in the neighborhood was the gorgeous old Victorian in back of the salvage yard that Diesel had said was way too expensive—Cameron, the same broker who’d helped us buy the Partridge Pit location was supposed to call me back that very afternoon with a lead on a couple of other houses in a lower price range.
I figured there was no rush. After all, with the final custody hearing coming up on Friday and the grand opening of the Partridge Pit flagship store the week after that, we both had bigger fish to fry.
“Hey.” Diesel came up behind me, braced his hands on my waist, rested his chin on my shoulder, and grinned down at Mari, who was doing her best impression of Harry Houdini, trying to twist herself out of the sweater already. “I have a very, very important question to ask you. You ready?”
My lips wanted turn up in a smile, but I fought it valiantly. “No.”
“Oh, I think you are, baby. I think you’re ready.”
I shook my head emphatically, and Diesel snickered like a little kid. Then he bit the side of my neck in the spot he knew would make me shiver, which was super unfair.
“Do you know, Gil Hammersmith has to force himself to make eye contact with me now because the look my giant, tattooed husband gave him the other day was that intimidating? If only he could see you now,” I fake-complained. “Giggling at your own jokes.”
I felt Diesel shake with silent laughter. “Come on. This is the last one, I promise.”
“That was what you said last week. And yesterday. And earlier at breakfast.” I heaved a mighty sigh, like I was not the luckiest idiot to ever be gifted a more beautiful future than he could possibly dream up, and grumbled, “Fine, then. Ask me.”