Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 91065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Teacher thing.
Single-mom thing.
Give me a break. Grow up.
I roll my eyes, but something in his tone makes me pause. “I get the fact that dating a single parent is not for everyone, but being intimidated because I seemed grounded? That’s a new one. You didn’t even know me. I could have been a monster.”
He nods, chuckling. “Yeah, I guess you could have been a monster. But it’s not an excuse. It’s just the truth.” He holds his arms out. “I mean, look at me. Do I look like I know how to process emotions? No.”
No, but he looks mouthwateringly good and makes me want to laugh.
What a big lovable dope.
Still. I cannot cave—he really screwed up big time.
“That argument is not helping your case.”
From the corner of my eye, I watch Wyatt swinging higher and higher, her eyes darting between Dex and me. She knows he made me mad—doesn’t know why, only knows I got little sleep last night.
My daughter doesn’t miss a thing, so I owe it to her to handle this with a bit of grace and not lose my shit on this dude. Not here, anyway.
“Look, Dex,” I say, my voice softer now. “You’re a nice guy—I really, really liked you. I get that you have your issues. We all do. You met my ex, you know what a roller coaster that can be. None of us are perfect. But that’s not really a reason to use someone.” I let out a heavy breath. “You used me. Do you have any idea how that feels?”
Good people do bad things.
“I did not see it that way.” His voice is quiet, mingling with the breeze and the rustling of the trees and Wyatt’s occasional laughter.
I sigh, leaning back against the wooden picnic table. “For a few weeks we had a good thing. I was living in Delulu Land.”
“I don’t love the fact that you’re using past tense.”
“Good intentions don’t erase the damage that was done.” I feel the need to remind him, anger and sadness bubbling up. “I understand that you’re here trying to make things right, but it’s going to take a lot more than words. It’s about actions, about showing that you’re committed to changing.” Surely he knows that.
“I get it,” Dex says earnestly. “I’m willing to do whatever it takes.”
“Do you even know what that means?” I shrug, agitated. “Because I do. Relationships are about trust and companionship. They’re not just about saying the right things—they’re about consistently doing the work. Relationships are work, Dex. And small moments, not just the big gestures. They’re not about the media and Super Bowl wins and fans blowing smoke up your butthole.”
I exhale. That was a lot of talking at him, and I wince when the telltale sign of needing to use the bathroom tingles in my lower half.
Worst.
Timing.
Ever.
I spot a public restroom not too far from where Wyatt is swinging. She’s slowing now, feet dragging in the wood chips beneath her to busy herself.
“Ugh, can you hold that thought? I have to pee.”
Dex grins. “Amazing.”
I tilt my head. What a weird thing to say. “Be right back.”
“Take your time,” he calls after me as I beeline for the park bathroom.
As I quicken my pace, I can’t help but feel a bit self-conscious. My mind is racing through our conversation, replaying his words in my head, a weird mix of relief and anxiety that’s not helping my bladder situation. I’m a nervous pee-er!
The restroom is empty, thank goodness—and I rush in, locking the door behind me.
After taking care of business, I lean my forehead against the cool tile wall in an attempt to steady my breathing. The whole situation is overwhelming. The last thing I need to do is have a breakdown in a public restroom.
I finish up, wash my hands quickly, and take a deep breath before stepping out.
“You can do this.”
Chapter 33
Dex
I move quick when Margot gets up to use the bathroom, motioning for Wyatt to get her rear over here. I have planning and plotting to do, just like Landon told me.
Except, I’m not sure what that plan to win her back is.
I’m hoping Wyatt will tell me.
“Dude, I need your help,” I hiss, not wanting her mom to hear me, knowing I’d be in deep shit if she knew I was dragging her daughter into my drama. I have no idea how much this kid knows about our breakup or fight.
“No kidding,” she says once she’s done stomping over. “You seriously pissed her off.”
Dang, she looks like her mom when she’s irritated.
Ha!
“Hey. Are you allowed to talk like that?” She’s only ten years old. Should she be allowed to use words like pissed?
“We don’t have time for semantics,” she informs me, glancing over her shoulder at the bathrooms where her mom disappeared. “You’re a mess.”
I am?