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)
Before he left, I warned him that he’d need to put structures in place. Routines. If he wanted to stay a priority for her, she’d need to be a priority for him. He assured me that he would, and in the beginning, it was fine. He called every Sunday morning. And he’d send her postcards. But as his new family grew, he started rearranging calls or missing them completely.
Seeing the disappointment in her eyes was heartbreaking. It’s still heartbreaking. All the hope that she’s going to speak to someone who loves her, and then he cancels. Sometimes, I think it would be easier if he cut all contact. At least she could heal. But this way, she keeps being let down. She keeps getting hurt.
Whenever I raise the issue with Bill, he has an excuse. I can’t force him to be more reliable for Riley. I can’t see it ever changing. I get that she’d want to trade him in for another dad.
We pull up at school and I park. As we get out of the car, someone calls Riley’s name, but she doesn’t look up like she normally does.
“But if you married Fisher, then would he be my daddy?” she asks, as she turns to look at me.
It’s like an arrow to my chest. I wish I could give her that. Hope for a new daddy. A better, attentive, more present father. But I can’t. Certainly not with Fisher. But realistically, I can’t see myself ever being married to anyone. I’ve managed this long.
“I’m not going to marry Fisher, sweet girl.” I pull her in for a hug. “I’m sorry you’re sad.”
She pulls away and nods solemnly at me. “I am sad. I want a dad. Everyone has a dad except me.”
“I get that,” I say to her, and I pull her in for another hug. “It’s so hard,” I whisper against her pretty, soft hair.
Someone calls her name again.
“I’d better go, Mom. You need to get to work.”
I smile. She’s such an empathetic kid.
“I love you bunches,” she says.
“Love you double,” I reply, as I hook her backpack onto her arms.
She heads off over to the playground. Soon, she’s smiling and playing her favorite clapping games with her three best friends, and it makes me feel slightly better that she’s bounced back. For now.
I pull out the envelope that came with the flowers from my pocket and take out the card.
My heart soars in my chest at the message.
I’m still thinking of you.
You’re wonderful.
—Fisher
It’s been a while since a man thought I was wonderful. In fact, I’m not sure any man has ever thought I was wonderful. And it’s the only time I’ve ever been sent flowers.
I tap the card against my chest. If Riley spends any time with Fisher, there’s a danger her expectations will skyrocket. And I don’t have much time when I’m not with her. Fisher might think I’m wonderful, and I think he’s pretty wonderful, too. It’s just, I’m not sure how much of him I’m going to be able to see before he goes back to New York and is gone forever.
FIFTEEN
Fisher
I’m in the next lodge over from Byron and Rosey, but of course, I can’t tell if they’re in there or not. I know for a fact that Byron has an office over at the main building, but he always works from his lodge. As does Rosey. So, I’m taking my chances and popping by for a cup of sugar. And their input on an idea I have.
I knock on the door and wait, glance back at the incredible views behind us. The mountains on the other side of the valley aren’t as tall as the one we’re on, but they’re still imposing. This place is like a different planet to New York. I’m not sure how it’s possible we all speak the same language.
Byron throws the door open and stares at me like he’s been waiting for me. “Come in,” he says.
I follow him to the back of their place. Their lodge is three times the size of mine. I have no idea why they’re building a place outside of the Club when this place is an almost-palace.
I head to the fridge to grab a can of seltzer for me and one for Byron. “Where’s Rosey?”
“Down at the new house,” Byron says. “Keeping the contractors on their toes.”
“Good for her. I still don’t understand why you don’t want to stay here. It’s beautiful, and you have gourmet food yards away and—”
“But whenever I step out of my door, everyone knows I’m the boss. I don’t want to be the boss all the time.”
I hand him a seltzer and collapse onto the sofa.
Byron sits opposite me. “I have a call in twenty minutes, so what’s up?” he asks.
I chuckle and take a swig of my drink. “I had a call with Grace Astor.”