Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 96512 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 483(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96512 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 483(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
FOURTEEN
Juniper
My head is a jumble of thoughts this morning.
“Do you have to bring that pirate costume in today?” I call out to Riley.
She pops up from right behind me. “No need to shout, Mom.”
“I thought you were cleaning your teeth. Pirate costume is today, right?”
“No, next Friday,” she says, looking at me like I’ve lost my mind. “It’s for the assembly, which is next Friday.”
“Oh, that’s right.”
“Did you not sleep good, Mommy?” she says. “And why did Fizzy have a sleepover?” she asks.
“No, I didn’t get enough sleep. It’s made my brain fuzzy. That’s why I always tell you it’s important to get enough sleep.”
It isn’t just the lack of sleep that’s made my brain fuzzy, although it doesn’t help. Every time I try and focus on something, my thoughts drift to Fisher. How he seemed to worship my body. How incredible he felt over me, under me, inside me.
Maybe it’s just because I haven’t had sex for a long time, but last night was like something that I’ll never forget for as long as I live. He was so in control and commanding, but at the same time so incredibly attentive to what I needed and wanted from him. He was an equal mix of masculinity and fragility. He was just completely perfect.
I’d thought he was hot and fun before last night, and now? He’s… special. A special man.
“Mom,” Riley calls, pulling me out of more thoughts of Fisher.
“Yes, honey?”
“My lunch?” she says. “It’s not in my bag.”
“It’s not?” I scan the countertops, but it’s not out. “It’s gotta be. I know I made it.”
She opens her backpack wide, showing me that it’s not in there. Where else could it be?
I pace up and down in front of the cabinets, like it’s going to jump out at me.
“What about the refrigerator?” she asks.
I open the door, and there it is, like I prepared it for tomorrow or something.
I pull it out and hold it up.
“Mommy!” She collapses into giggles. “You need to wind up your brain today.”
“You’re right. I do. I hope yours is wound up too.”
I place the lunchbox into her bag, and she zips it up.
“My brain is always wound.”
I laugh. “Okay. You have your water?”
She nods.
“Sweater?”
“Mom, I’m wearing my sweater!”
I grin and wink at her. “You want another one?”
She rolls her eyes, and we head out. As we get to the car, a delivery guy pulls up.
“Mom,” she says. “Who’s that?”
The driver slides out of the cab. “Hey there. Got something for ya here.”
I’m not expecting anything. He goes around the back of his truck and pulls out the biggest bouquet of flowers I’ve ever seen, already arranged in a vase.
Instantly, I know they’re from Fisher. But how? I only left him about five hours ago. How on earth did he manage to get flowers delivered to me this early?
“Thanks,” I say, signing for them.
They are the most beautiful shades of pink and yellow and green. They look almost wild. I look more closely and realize that the green foliage is juniper. My heart climbs in my chest at his thoughtful, romantic gesture.
“Can I take them?” Riley says.
“I think they might be a bit big for you,” he says.
I laugh as she tries to take them. They’re practically as big as her. I grab them, and we shuffle back into the house.
“Did you order these, Mommy?” she asks.
I shake my head.
“Then who sent them?”
I shrug, pull the card from where it’s nestled in among the leaves, and slide it into the back pocket of my jeans. Riley doesn’t notice. Why would she? I don’t think I’ve ever had flowers delivered before.
“Let’s get you to school,” I say. “We’re going to be late.”
“But, Mommy, who sent us flowers?” she asks.
“I don’t know. I guess we’ll find out.”
We get into my beat-up Honda and head out.
“I think it was Fisher,” she says from the back, and my heart splutters. How would she know that? “The guy from the diner. I think he likes you, Mommy. And when boys like girls, they give them flowers.”
“Is that right?” I say.
“Yes, it’s true. I saw it in a movie.”
“Okay then.”
“Is he going to be my new dad?”
I grip the steering wheel harder. I try and keep my voice as neutral as I can when I reply, “You have a dad, Riley. Why would you think Fisher is going to be your dad?”
She shrugs. “I never see my dad. If Fisher was my dad, I’d see him more.”
“Oh, honey. Fisher isn’t going to be your dad. Your dad is your dad. I know you wish you could see him more. Maybe I’ll try and set up a FaceTime with him this weekend?”
“Okay,” she says, sounding unenthusiastic.
Bill isn’t great at keeping in touch with Riley between visits. It’s not because he doesn’t love her. I know he does. But he’s busy and occupied. I just don’t think she’s at the front of his mind. Or at least, he doesn’t put her at the front of his mind.