Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 106298 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 531(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106298 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 531(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
She adds, “Her father and I are still together. I met him six months after the office incident.” Standing, she keeps her body angled toward her daughter, and then back at me. “Are you doing well? I see you got married?”
“A lot has changed over the years. My priorities shifted in a good way. I’m happy. How about you?”
Her smile returns. “I like that for you. I’m good. Really good.”
“I’m happy for you, Katie.”
She signals to her daughter. “I need to go. Good seeing you again.”
“You, too. Take care.”
Resting my arms on my knees, I send my gaze to where Beck and his friend are still playing, having a blast by the look and sounds of it. When I sit back, I look at the photo on my phone. The universe can’t be sending a clearer message to me. It’s time I listen to it.
CHAPTER 30
Baylor
“Do you need me to call 911, Uncle Baylor?”
Bent over with one hand on my knee, I gasp for air, gripping the chain-link fence to hold myself up with the other. “Funny, kid.”
Dribbling the ball around me in circles doesn’t help, but it does make me feel old as fuck. I’m only aging from here and barely surviving now. What am I going to be like when I finally have kids of my own? I pull myself upright, still trying to catch my breath, when I eye Beckett, ready to impart some wisdom and buy myself some recovery time. “This is the court your dad and I used to play on every Thursday after work. We’d join a pickup game.”
“Do you still play?” Wonder if it was the sweating buckets looking like I’m ready to pass out or me losing the ability to breathe in that gave it away.
Yesterday, we were all over the city visiting his old school, meeting up with his friends, and spoiling him by taking him shopping at FAO Schwartz. His parents are going to kill me if this basketball game doesn’t do the job first.
Riffling through my memories, I can’t remember the last time I came out here. “Not much anymore except when we play basketball out at the ranch.” I know I must have had more energy, though. This kid refuels with food and is ready to go again when I need time to digest like an old man.
“We play, too. He likes free throws.”
I hold my hands out for him to pass to me. When I catch the ball, I ask, “What do you like?”
“Slam-dunking.”
Damn. Unexpected. “You can slam-dunk?” I dribble the ball in place.
“With help from Dad.”
I tuck the ball under my arm and wipe the sweat off my forehead with my T-shirt. “You’re going to be slam-dunking on your own one day.”
“You think so?”
“I know so.” I toss him the ball again and watch as he runs across the half-court to shoot. He scores, making me feel like a proud papa. What impresses me most though is his ability to transition from the city to the country and back again for this short visit with such ease. Kids are so adaptable.
His journey has been the opposite of mine. I went from the country to the city. Could I settle back into a slower way of life as easily? I’m starting to believe I can.
I join him for some more hoops, and he wears me out again. Unlike how exhausting my job is, this is only physical. Like Beck, I’m energized by all the possibilities ahead.
Paul hands me the delivery as soon as he opens the door for us. “This just came an hour ago.”
“Perfect. Thanks.” I open it as soon as we get into the apartment. I could have this in life on the daily. Is that what the choice is? New York or the love of my life? There’s no decision to be made. I made it when I said I do. Seeing the photo only affirms what I already knew.
“Why are you and Aunt Lauralee dressed like you’re married?”
Shit. What do I say? I shift my body to block little eyes, tucking the photo under the package, then look behind to find Beckett standing there. “We were pretending.” Fuck me, the lies never end.
“Looks real.”
Like the adult I am, I go for the distraction tactic. “What do you want for dinner?”
He stares at me like he doesn’t believe a word I’ve said about the photo, then says, “Lasagna.”
“A man after my own heart. I’ll order in.”
I take my first bite of breakfast on the plane while making my move on a travel-size game of checkers on the center table between Beckett and me. I already set him up to win, and he takes the bait, making a move to claim one of my checker pieces.
He says, “I’ve been thinking about the photo.”
I choke down the food I had in my mouth, coughing to clear my throat. After a big gulp of water, I look at him with a face of indifference despite a nine-year-old making me panic inside. I thought he was going to brag about taking my piece. Guess I wasn’t as smooth as I thought the other day, though. Man, kids are perceptive. Moving the eggs around with the tines of my fork, I ask, “What have you been thinking about it?”