Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 51335 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 257(@200wpm)___ 205(@250wpm)___ 171(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51335 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 257(@200wpm)___ 205(@250wpm)___ 171(@300wpm)
Oliver Hunt was a police officer and brought his six-year-old, Tyler to the group; Ty for short. He described himself as the man having the least time to spend with his son and feeling really bad about it. He was very candid about his “selfish, bitch ex-wife” leaving abandoning he and Tyler, so it made him feel even worse that he couldn’t be around more often. As a result, he tried to keep Tyler busy with lots of after-school and weekend activities. I knew that one of the first things I wanted to do was find out how much Tyler enjoyed his busy schedule. Kids deserve attention, but it was also easy to get overwhelmed at that age, and I wanted to make sure that he was doing things he enjoyed, not just to distract him from the fact that neither of his parents were around.
Richard, nicknamed Ricky, was Lowe Wynters’ five-year-old son. From what I could tell, he was the most involved with his son, often taking his son with him to work to teach him the ins and outs of the automotive industry as a C.E.O. of his own company. His son liked cars and buildings and was part of his school’s lego league. Fortunately for me, lego league took place after school during the week as opposed to on the weekend, but it also seemed like I would end up spending the least amount of time with him. I would have to be intentional about spending time with Ricky whenever I could to make sure I bonded with him the way as the others.
Last, but not least, was Harrison Rowe and his son Trey. I was the most curious about these two. In all of the guys’ letters, they alluded to the mothers of their children in some way or another. Ethan, Rogan, Cade, Lowe, and Oliver were all separated or divorced, but Harrison didn’t mention Trey’s mother in his letter. Not even once. It made me a little nervous. I wasn’t sure if I should ask about it or not, or if I should just pretend as if the woman didn’t exist? Harrison was also a C.E.O. of a construction company, but didn’t speak about it in the passionate way the other guys discussed their jobs, almost as though it was a means to an end. The vagueness about their lives aside, Harrison and Trey were a normal, father and son. Trey participated in martial arts on Saturdays, which meant something else to manage on that day.
I mapped out the kids’ weekend activities and figured out the best way to time everything to get everyone where they needed to be on time. I identified a cute little ice cream parlor across from where the twins played baseball, and it also served gelato in case I had Nova with me. It was only a hop skip and a jump from Trey’s martial arts studio and Nova’s ballet studio, and was in a good central location to accommodate whatever Ty had going on for the day. I felt like I had a good handle on it.
I packed my notes, one of my favorite psych books, and some other materials for the day into my backpack, and then I got dressed in a comfortable, but professional, pair of jeans and a zip-up hoodie. I decided to go with my hair down for the day to give my best impression, but it would probably be up a lot more going forward. Taking a deep breath, and feeling prepared for the afternoon, I made my way down to the car and over to Ethan’s place.
As I was getting out of my car, another one was pulling up. Compared to my hand-me-down 1996 Toyota Corolla, he felt like a king pulling up. He was in a shining, metallic gray Rolls Royce Phantom. The door opened and a man climbed out, somehow looking more luxurious than the car itself despite just being dressed in a pair of dark gray jeans, work boots, and a long-sleeve black shirt. He had cut jaw with perfect right angles, and medium-length black hair that fell down the sides of his head and rested on his shoulders. His eyes landed on me as he climbed out and a warm half-smile tipped up.
“Hello!” he greeted.
I felt like I’d been karate chopped in my throat. He looked like a true, blue, male model. Watching him stand in front of the car with the wind blowing through his hair and a smile on his face, he looked like a walking car commercial.
“Hi,” I replied, much too quiet for him to hear.
“What?” he said as he started to walk over.
“Hi!” I replied louder, not like an idiot. “I’m Jordan.”
The beautiful man held out a hand. “Ah, Jordan. It’s lovely to meet you, I’m Lowe.”