Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 111400 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 557(@200wpm)___ 446(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111400 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 557(@200wpm)___ 446(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
“Is it? You haven’t dated anyone seriously in nine years, Cole.”
“Because I’m not interested in serious dating. That doesn’t mean I’m stuck.”
“But you’re choosing to be lonely.”
“I’m choosing to be a good, present father to my daughter.”
“Plenty of single dads get remarried! Don’t you think Trisha would have wanted that for you?”
I lowered my voice. “What matters is what Mariah wants—and doesn’t want. My getting remarried is something that scares her. She’s been very honest about that in the past.”
“Mariah is a child. Yes, she worries about losing you, but she’d come around. You need to move on, Cole.”
I took a deep breath, the way I always did whenever my mother or anyone else tried to tell me what Trisha would have wanted, what was best for our daughter, or what I needed to do. I didn’t have a bad temper, but I didn’t like being told how to run my life. I was a grown man, and I knew what I wanted.
“Look,” I said. “I appreciate your concern, but you’re wrong—I have moved on, Mom. I’ve accepted that I’m single, I’ve accepted that I’m going to raise my daughter alone, and I’ve accepted that life doesn’t always go the way we plan. Now you need to accept it too.”
She shook her head. “You’re not even giving yourself the chance to fall in love again.”
“The truth is, Mom, that’s never going to happen.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because lightning never strikes the same place twice.”
A knock at the back door made us both jump. Through the glass panes, I saw Cheyenne smile and wave.
“Come on in, honey,” my mother called.
Cheyenne pulled the door open and stepped inside the kitchen. A chilly breeze came with her, bringing with it the scent of dead leaves and burning wood, as if someone in the neighborhood had their fireplace going. Her cheeks were pink from the cold, and her blond hair was pulled back into a ponytail, but it seemed like half of it had escaped in the wind and blown around her face.
“Hey,” she said brightly. “I just came to see if Mariah wanted to run to the store with me and pick out some snacks for our girls’ night.”
“Oh, she’d love that,” my mother said. “I’ll go get her.”
When we were alone, Cheyenne turned to me and smiled. “How’s it going, Cole?”
“Fine.”
“What’s wrong?”
I shook my head and muttered, “My mother.”
“Oh.” She held up her hands. “Believe me, I get it. Living with your mother when you’re over thirty is a special kind of torture.”
“I’m moving out,” I announced, making the final decision right then and there.
Her eyebrows rose. “Are you?”
“Yeah. I’ve been thinking about it for a while, but I feel like now’s the time.” I paused. “As long as Mariah is okay with it.”
She nodded slowly, chewing on her full lower lip. “You think you’ll stay local?”
“Yeah. Unless I put in for a transfer to a different police department or something, I have to. And I doubt Mariah would enjoy being yanked out of her school, taken away from the only friends she’s ever known, or away from family.”
“Right.” She sighed. “I can’t wait to move out. But I promised myself I wouldn’t until I paid off all my student loans and credit card debt.”
“That’s smart. How long will it take you?”
She shrugged, her fuzzy, peach-colored cardigan slipping off one shoulder. Beneath it she wore a white lacy thing that looked like a bra and a shirt combined. It sent a tiny jolt of electricity to my crotch, and I immediately averted my eyes. “Originally I thought it would take me two years,” she went on, “but I’m super motivated, so maybe just a few more months.” Then she laughed. “I love my mother, but she drives me crazy.”
“Same.”
“If she would just mind her own business, I’d be fine.”
“Exactly.”
“Like, I get it, she had life all figured out by the time she was my age—the husband, the house, the kids—but some of us are still working on it. Anyway.” She shook her head and smiled at me. “So, you heading over to the Bulldog for Griff’s party?”
“Yes.” I looked down at my clothes. “Although both my mother and my daughter have made it clear that I’m not dressed for the occasion. You think I look okay?”
“Definitely.” She hesitated. “If the occasion was a PGA tournament.”
I groaned. “Mariah said I looked like Fred Yaldoo.”
Cheyenne laughed, her eyes lighting up. “From the car dealership?”
“Yeah. Is she right?”
Rather than answer, she put her fingers over her mouth and tried unsuccessfully to stop giggling. “I better not answer that.”
“Goddammit, fine. I’ll change. But what am I supposed to put on?”
“A different shirt? Like a dress shirt or something? And maybe not the khakis.”
“Dress pants?”
“Maybe. Or dark jeans. Depends on the shirt you pick.”
“This makes me glad I wear a uniform every day.” I checked the time on my phone. “Shit. I’m running late already. Can you just come up and pick something out of my closet?”