Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 82715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
As I stared at the coffee dripping into the carafe, my gut burned. She was so fixated on paying her way, of not being a mooch, as she’d put it, that she was tying herself up in knots. I was pretty sure she’d wound herself up so bad that she’d puked the night before. She’d tried to play off her run from the room, but I’d seen that shade of green before.
Then she’d hacked off her hair, just like she used to when we were kids and she’d had a particularly bad night at home.
I was sitting at the table drinking my second cup of coffee when Emilia stumbled into the kitchen in my t-shirt. Her short hair stuck up in every direction, and it flew around her face as she squeaked and jerked to a stop.
“I thought you went to work,” she sputtered, crossing her arms over her chest and then trying to smooth her hair, going back and forth between the two like she couldn’t decide if she should hide her braless tits or the mad scientist thing on her head.
“Took the day off,” I replied, watching her in amusement. “Coffee’s hot if you want some.”
“That’s actually why I came down.” She gave me a tight smile as she tried to walk past me like she didn’t have a care in the world, tugging on the t-shirt.
“Rhett still sleepin’?” I turned to watch her.
“Yeah. I thought I’d enjoy a cup of coffee on the stairs.” She glanced at me over her shoulder. “A few minutes of peace and quiet but still able to stop him if he wakes up and tries to come down on his own.”
“Smart,” I replied, getting to my feet. “I’ll join you.”
I settled on the stairs to wait for her, wondering how I was going to bring up the day before. I hated to rock the boat because she seemed calmer than she had been, but I couldn’t let that shit fester.
“Why’d you take the day off?” she asked as she sat beside me, pulling her knees up under the t-shirt until only her toes were poking out of the bottom.
“We need to finish our conversation,” I replied, leaning against the banister.
“It could’ve waited until you got home.”
“And have you spinnin’ out all day?” I huffed.
“You heard Charlie,” she replied, taking a sip of her coffee. “It wasn’t as bad as it seemed. I’ll go back tomorrow, and it’ll be a little better, and the day after that will be even better—”
“You fuckin’ hate it,” I realized, watching the emotions cross her face.
“You don’t have to like your job to do it,” she countered. “It’s a paycheck. It’ll work until I find something else.”
“Why?” I asked in confusion.
“Because.”
“Sugar, I told you I make enough to cover us.”
“You shouldn’t have to cover us by yourself,” she replied stubbornly.
“I want to.”
Emilia’s mouth snapped shut. “So, I’m the little housewife,” she said slowly. “Barefoot and pregnant?”
“Jesus.” I laughed. “I hope not. Wear some shoes.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I,” I replied firmly. “Look, Em. I’m not sure why you think you gotta work a job that you hate just to bring some extra cash in—”
“I don’t know why you think I wouldn’t.”
I took a deep breath, knowing that I was stumbling through a minefield. Somehow she’d gotten it into her head that she had to be hustling to bring some money in, but I didn’t think it had anything to do with her feeling of self-worth or a genuine interest in working. It was darker than that somehow.
“Put it this way,” I said gently. “Why would you be goin’ in to a job you hate instead of spendin’ that time with Rhett before he’s off to school.”
“That’s a low blow.” Her spine snapped straight. “Lots of moms work. That doesn’t mean they don’t want to spend time with their kids. No one would ever say that about a dad.”
I closed my eyes in frustration. The conversation wasn’t going the way I wanted it to, and I wasn’t sure how to salvage it.
“I know that,” I ground out. “I wasn’t sayin’ that. If you loved your job, got some fulfillment from it, or hell—even if you didn’t but you needed to work to pay the bills—I’d get it. Alright? Then it would make sense to work—but sugar, none of that applies.”
“I can’t just sit around on my ass all day.”
I looked at her in disbelief. “Is that what you call chasin’ Rhett around all day, picking up after him, wiping his ass, feeding him twelve times, and then cleaning him up after? Because I gotta tell you, I got him ready to head to my mom’s yesterday, and I was fuckin’ exhausted before I ever got to work.”
“I don’t even know why we’re having this conversation,” she said, beginning to stand. “I need to work.”