Total pages in book: 146
Estimated words: 137077 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 685(@200wpm)___ 548(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137077 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 685(@200wpm)___ 548(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
Nearly nose to nose, he stares back at me, his eyes full of cold fury, but I can virtually see him processing what I’ve said. I’m ready for him to reject it outright. He has no reason to value my opinion over his own where Grace is concerned, at least not yet when I barely know her and he barely knows me. But I know girls, and women, and the process it takes to get from one to the other.
“Jesus fuck,” he hisses, throwing his head back to stare at the fluorescent light above us. I think he’s looking for divine intervention, but I’m not sure if it’s with me or his daughter, but it feels like a rare peek behind his rigid façade, and maybe even an acknowledgement that there’s at least one tiny chink in his otherwise perfect armor. After a long, heavy moment, he scrubs a hand over his face. His palm on his stubble makes a scratching noise, and when he brings his attention back to me, his eyes are virtually pleading for mercy. “I just thought it was a criminally short skirt.”
“I don’t think it even qualifies as a skirt. I was thinking cummerbund.” I hold my finger and thumb up a scant four inches apart, which is an exaggeration of how short the skirt is, but not by much. He looks surprised at my expression of utter horror, and I laugh. “Don’t worry, I wouldn’t let her go out in that scrap of fabric. I just wanted her to realize it was inappropriate. That’s how she learns.”
I swear a metric-ton of anxiety lifts off Cameron’s shoulders when he hears that I absolutely agree with him. Tilting his head, he asks, “You don’t mind teaching her to sew?”
“Nope, she’s gonna be my stitch bitch.” When his eyebrows slam down low over his eyes, I press my lips together, fighting to hide my grin. “Which is absolutely not what I’ll call her, because that would be inappropriate language,” I say stiffly. Well, as stiffly as I can because I’m seriously fighting off laughter now.
Cameron shakes his head. “You should hear what Kyle says in front of her. Stitch bitch isn’t remotely the worst thing she’s heard.”
Our eyes meet, and it feels like we’re both on the same page—one with Grace’s name at the top in big, bold, bubble letters. But I can see that he’s still processing what I shared. He won’t let something like that go, which is exactly why I told him. He’s a great dad, but even greatness can falter every once in a while, and as much as what that long ago foster dad said echoes in my head, I think what I told Cameron will echo in his, and both he and Grace will be better for it.
“So, about those pants?” I ask, not really caring about them at all but wanting to lighten things up and hoping these supposed atrocities of pantsdom will make Cameron smile. His whole face changes when he does that, and he deserves those little momentary pockets of happiness amid all his stress and seriousness.
I’m rewarded by a full, white-toothed grin. It’s like watching the sunrise, and I instantly want to see him smile like this again. “They’re over here, and probably even more awful than I made them out to be.”
He’s right. They are absolutely dreadful, which is why I buy them immediately.
CAMERON
Grace and Riley spend the entire afternoon working on her new skirt creation, and thankfully, by the end of the process, the denim portion is nothing more than the top section of a mid-calf-length skirt that twirls when Grace does a spin.
“Isn’t it adorable?” Grace squeals, asking me for at least the fifth time.
“The most adorable ever,” I agree solemnly.
More surprising than the now-completely-appropriate skirt is that I’ve spent the entire time simply watching them. I haven’t felt compelled to check my emails, log in to work, hit the gym, or anything else. Grace and I usually spend our weekends together, but as she’s gotten older, we’re not always attached at the hip the way she was when she was younger, so a bit of together time and a bit of doing our own things is our norm. We’ll watch a movie together, but then she disappears into her room to talk to friends while I do something else, like get in a long run on the treadmill or deep-dive into whatever project I’m working on.
But today, we’ve shopped, snacked, and stitched together. Well, Grace sewed and I’ve been sitting here, but I’ve enjoyed watching her learn something new, especially with Riley teaching her.
I wouldn’t have been surprised if Riley had whipped out a sewing machine from somewhere, like a magician with a rabbit in a hat, but instead, she handed Grace a thick silver needle and some thread and showed her how to slip the thread through the needle’s eye, which took several tries, some frustration, and a few giggles to do successfully. Then, they discussed ways to cut the fabric Grace selected, learned about ‘good scissors’ and grain, and ultimately, pinned the chopped fabric to the denim.