Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 57866 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 289(@200wpm)___ 231(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57866 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 289(@200wpm)___ 231(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
I’d never felt less attractive, but when he looked at me just now, something shifted inside me. I felt like a woman again, with needs and wants and feelings, instead of a baby-growing vessel.
“How’s your knee?” I asked him once he was inside the car, hoping to steer the conversation to a place that would allow my heart to settle into its usual rhythm.
I’d kept up with watching hockey games when I could during the past three months, and I’d followed hockey news online, too. Not exactly the behavior of a woman who was over it.
Beau had sprained his knee about six weeks ago, missing two weeks’ worth of games while he healed.
“It’s a lot better,” he said. “I was lucky, it was just a mild sprain. The team trainer has had me doing a lot of physical therapy.”
“It’s healed up okay, though?”
“Yep. Good as new. But the doctor said I’m probably going to be prone to arthritis as I age.”
“My grandpa had arthritis. He always said his joints should be on the payroll at the local TV station because they were better at knowing when it was going to rain or snow than the weather forecasters were.”
Beau grinned over at me. “Something to look forward to, I guess.”
“How’s your family?”
“Everybody’s good. Mom and Dad are doing their thing as always, same with Asher and Chloe and the kids, and Fiona will be having her baby any day now. It’s a girl.”
“Aw, good for her.” I put my hand on my bump, eager for the day when I was close to delivering.
“Me and Isaac put together her nursery furniture a couple of weeks ago because Adrian is a douchebag who said he didn’t have time to do it.”
“Yikes, and this is the guy she’s going to be relying on for help with their baby?”
Beau shrugged. “Adrian can’t be relied on for anything unless it’s something he wants to do. Asher, Isaac, me, and Genevieve have all told Fiona about how we feel about him, but our parents aren’t so blunt.”
“That’s a shame. Fiona deserves better.”
Beau exhaled hard and glanced over at me. “Yeah, I can’t wait until we get to the restaurant. I’ve already waited three months to say this stuff to you. I’m sorry for every stupid thing I said or did that drove you away. That was the last thing I wanted.”
“I know, and…me too. I’m sorry for the way things went down.”
“You just cut me off,” he said, looking straight ahead as he drove. “You wouldn’t even respond to my texts. I was worried about you.”
“It wasn’t just about you. Something else happened, too, and I just needed to retreat for a little while. Be alone with myself.”
He pulled the car into a random parking lot and then angled the car into a parking spot before turning to look over at me. “What else happened?”
I didn’t want to say the words out loud. I’d told Marlowe about it over text, and that had been hard enough. Beau had amazing parents; I was ashamed of mine. He already knew about my mom, though, and I hadn’t lied to him before. I didn’t want to start now.
“When I woke up New Year’s Day, my mom was gone, and she took my laptop and the Tiffany watch my grandma left me.”
“Holy shit, she stole from you?”
I felt a flare of aggravation, because yes, obviously. His shock only made what was already bad feel even worse.
“Yes. I told you, she’s bipolar.”
“That doesn’t mean she’s incapable of knowing right from wrong.”
I closed my eyes, trying not to lash out at him. “Well, I’ve known her my whole life and you’ve never met her. She’s used people for money her entire life. Usually men, but now that she’s not as young and attractive as she once was, I imagine that’s harder.”
He reached over and took my hand.
“You deserve better. You know that, right?”
I laughed bitterly. “Since when do any of us get what we deserve? I got the mother I got.”
“Look, the last thing I want is to piss you off again, but you need to know you shouldn’t just shrug this off because it’s the way she’s always been. Don’t let her in your apartment ever again.”
My throat tightened. “I don’t want to, but on Christmas, she walked to my house from the bus station in a pair of rubber sandals in the snow. No coat. She was hungry and freezing. And I may seem cold and analytical, but she is my mother. I don’t think she had anywhere else to go.”
“Hey,” he said softly, cupping my cheek and turning my face so our gazes met. “You don’t seem cold and analytical. You’re warm and sweet. You’re amazing. I don’t want you to resign yourself to being hurt again and again.”
Tears slipped from the corners of my eyes onto my cheeks. “That’s been my life so far.”