Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 121296 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 606(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121296 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 606(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
I believed I was wanted, and that I belonged.
I switched off my phone last night and haven’t turned it back on since. There’s no one I want to be contacted by except the people in this house. The outside world can wait.
Right now, the world is here in the sunlight, slanting through dusty windows, bacon sizzling in a cast-iron pan, and the scent of cinnamon clinging to the air. Someone’s humming again. I think it’s McCartney. He sings like he talks, all gravel and whiskey.
The shirt I’m wearing still smells like his cologne, even though it’s been through the wash. I run my fingers down the hem, feeling surrounded. Inside this moment and this wild, unexpected home I didn’t even know I was looking for, I feel free.
I don’t want it to change.
I want to stay right here, in this messy, noisy, perfect now.
42
DYLAN
The diner smells like grilled onions and melted cheese, the scent that seeps into your clothes and ramps up your hunger tenfold. We’re packed into a booth near the front window, Grace across from me with Junie pressed into her side, Barbie doll clutched tight in one hand. Eli’s next to her, quieter, but her face lights up every time she smooths her doll’s tiny plastic braid that matches her own.
It’s loud in here with a chorus of forks clinking, old country music humming through the overhead speaker, and someone shouting for more coffee from the kitchen, but at this table, there’s peace. Grace has a way of settling everything by being present.
I thought twice about this outing, worried that it’s too much of a step in a direction I don’t even know if we should be traveling. But after being together twice and seeming to move in the right direction, it feels necessary. I’m not a man who fucks first and dates second, and even though this isn’t a date as such, it’s gotten us off the ranch for some quality time together, and it’s what I think we all need.
Junie waves her Barbie in the air like she’s mid-rodeo. “Her name is Princess Junie,” she announces. “And she owns a ranch and a unicorn, and she makes all the rules.”
Grace laughs and helps her adjust the doll’s hat. “I like a woman with a vision.”
Eli’s more careful with hers, brushing the braid-ends slowly and gently, like she’s worried it might break. Her doll has a pink jacket and boots, like the ones I left for Grace. Grace reaches out to brush a crumb from Eli’s cheek like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
My heart squeezes tight.
“I think I’m outnumbered,” I say, sipping my coffee, my voice low.
Grace grins across the table. “Welcome to my world, cowboy. How does it feel?”
“Like I need a special license to handle all this Barbie hair and cuteness,” I mutter, reaching for a ketchup bottle with a mock serious look.
Junie giggles. Eli leans into Grace’s side a little more.
And for a few perfect moments, it feels like my kids aren’t burdened by the loss of their momma, or paused, waiting for her to come back. They’re living in the moment, enjoying an afternoon out like normal kids.
When the bell over the door jingles, I look up from Eli’s small smile to find Nora in the doorway, framed in sunlight, her lipstick smeared, eyeliner smudged, and her glassy eyes searching, and for a second, I think I’m imagining the thing that could shatter everything, catastrophizing out of fear of losing again. But it doesn’t take long for me to realize that my ex-wife has appeared at the worst possible moment, and shit is about to go down.
She looks like the shell of the woman I married, glazed by too many drinks and haggard from lack of sleep. When our eyes meet, it’s like there’s a shift in barometric pressure, the air thickening as extreme emotion builds. My body stiffens for a moment, then I’m on my feet, ready to prevent the car crash that’s heading in our direction.
When she sees the kids with Grace, her face scrunches, and she lurches forward, boots loud against the tile. “You asshole,” she slurs, voice pitched too high for a family place like this.
“Hey,” I say evenly, putting myself between the booth and Nora’s fast approach, one hand braced against the table. “Nora. Not here. Not like this.” The stench of alcohol that hangs around her is almost eye-watering, mixed with stale body odor and cigarette smoke. I flinch when it hits my nostrils, stabbed by the unfamiliar aroma of decline.
She ignores me, eyes narrowing past my shoulder. “And you—” she spits at Grace, “You think you can take my place…”
I turn to witness Eli stiffening and Junie curl tighter against Grace, small hands clutching the ends of Grace’s shirt. Grace doesn’t flinch but wraps an arm around them both, holding steady. They’ve missed their momma so much, but not this version of her, and the longing in their eyes breaks my heart, even as they withdraw.