Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 86574 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86574 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
As much as I never liked this guy, his words gave me a shred of hope for my own situation.
“I’m not going to lie to you, Deacon. If Carys would have me back, I would love to be with her. She’s beautiful and kind, and something you can’t begin to understand, because you weren’t around in those days—she’s so very talented.”
“I wish I had known her then.”
“My point is…despite my feelings for her, there’s no future there. She doesn’t love me the way she loves you.”
My heart began to accelerate as we weaved through people on the sidewalk. “How do you know she loves me?”
“When you were away, she wouldn’t talk about you for a long time. But she finally told me what happened. It’s clear to me that her feelings still run deep. She’s just afraid of getting hurt again. Unfortunately, I started the trend. If you fuck up a second time, that would make three times she’s had her heart broken. That can’t happen.”
I raised my voice. “That’s not gonna happen.”
“Only you can prove that. If I thought I had a shot with her, I’d be giving you no advice right now. I envy the fuck out of you for even standing a chance. So don’t waste this opportunity.”
I raised my eyebrow. “I’m surprised to be getting such encouragement from the enemy.”
He chuckled. “The first time I met you, I didn’t like you. You pushed me away and wouldn’t let me see my daughter. But here’s the thing, I respected the hell out of you for it. You were protecting Sunny that night—something I wasn’t able to do at the time. That should’ve been my job as her father, not yours. It takes a strong man to be a good father to his own kids, but it takes a special kind of man to be a father to someone else’s.” He stopped walking to look me in the eyes. “If you want Carys, if you want a life with her and Sunny, then prove it. Do whatever it takes, and don’t fuck up again.”
“I don’t plan to.” This guy really surprised me. Maybe I didn’t hate him so much after all.
Charles nodded. “I’d rather see her with someone I know is a decent person than some asshole from the Internet. But just know that I’ll be around, too. I’m Sunny’s father. And I’m earning my way back in. I’d be willing to share that role if you earn the right to it, too.”
“Understood.”
I would’ve never imagined that Carys’s deadbeat ex could inspire a new determination in me to stay the course, to fight for what I wanted. But maybe the greatest lessons come from those who’ve been there, who’ve lost things they can never get back.
Later that afternoon, when I’d gone back to my apartment, I noticed a bright pink postcard slipped under my door. There was an elephant on the front and it read Sunny Turns 2.
My chest constricted. Her birthday party would be held at the YMCA in a couple of weeks.
Two. Where did the time go?
This invitation meant everything. Carys wanted me there, despite her reservations. This elephant meant there was still hope.
* * *
The gym at the YMCA was all decked out in pink. A bouncy house in the shape of a castle had been set up, along with a ball pit and obstacle course made out of soft objects.
Charles sat with his teenage son in a corner of the gym. Carys’s friend Simone, whom I’d only met once, was jumping with a girl I assumed was Charles’s daughter, based on the resemblance.
Also in the mix were several toddlers and their parents, people I figured Carys knew from her Mommy and Me class.
Carys stood next to the refreshment table with an older woman. She hadn’t seen me yet. Pink and gray balloons surrounded her. The cake on the table had a big elephant on it—and of course there was me: the biggest elephant in the room, the man who’d broken Carys’s heart. Many of the people here likely knew the story and would be sizing me up today.
I placed the giant bag containing Sunny’s gift on a table with the other presents.
Carys finally noticed me and waved for me to come over.
“Deacon, this is my boss, Cynthia.”
Ah. I should’ve known.
“Cynthia… This is my friend Deacon.”
Friend. Ouch.
Cynthia was probably in her late fifties. She had her brown hair up in a twist and exuded elegance, just how I might picture someone who ran a ballet.
I extended my hand. “Cynthia, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“You, as well.” She smiled, not seeming to give off any funny signals; that made me think Carys had never talked about me with her.
Sensing a vibe, perhaps, Cynthia excused herself under the guise of wanting some punch, leaving Carys and me alone.