Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 106772 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 534(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106772 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 534(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
No, dinner wasn’t a date, but maybe I wanted it to be.
Weston intrigued me. He was kind, he had an air of confidence about himself, he listened, and he asked questions. He knew when to show up and when to back off. Mostly, he could have any woman he wanted, and yet he was spending his free time with or around me. And Lord help me, he was sexy, in that ruggedly-handsome-in-a-flannel-but-could-rock-a-suit sort of way.
But it was more than attraction. Weston was everything Brendan wasn’t, which felt mean to think. It was clear to me they’d been raised differently, and it wasn’t Brendan’s fault he’d grown up with entitlement. Although Weston had the same, being a former professional baseball player. His priorities were more focused on his friends, community, and the students he taught and coached. Brendan cared about his tee times and trips to Aruba.
Where Brendan avoided difficult conversations, Weston leaned into them, asking the tough questions that made you stop and think before you blurted out an answer. He listened and didn’t gloss over the important things that mattered. Brendan brushed everything aside for a party.
Brendan had always been about the easy parts of life—the elegant dinners, the weekend getaways, the static companionship. But Weston, he wanted the hard stuff. He wanted to sit in hospital waiting rooms, spend his weekends fixing broken houses and hearts, and help teen boys navigate life.
It wasn’t fair to compare the two. They were night and day, each with his own attributes and flaws. Weston just was the sun and moon wrapped in a shiny bow.
I swallowed hard to clear my thoughts. My feelings didn’t matter because Miri and the kids were my priority. They needed to be my focus. Not the sexy neighbor.
“Did he pay?” Samira asked.
“Yes, but—”
“No buts,” Vera interrupted. “That’s a date, and he told Jerome, who told Lee.”
“Who in the hell are Jerome and Lee?” I snapped.
“Jerome is Weston’s assistant coach, and Lee owns the diner you went to the other night,” Miri said, her voice growing hoarser. “Lee and Weston are good friends.”
“Oh, who are we kidding: Weston is good friends with everyone in town,” Samira said.
“Regardless, it wasn’t a date. We talked about basketball and . . .” My cheeks flushed. I could feel them burning while these women stared at me with the same raised-eyebrow expression. I rolled my eyes and threw my hands up in the air.
“It wasn’t a date,” I tried to reiterate, but my voice failed me.
“He likes you,” Samira said. “I can see it in his eyes when he’s talking to you. He doesn’t sit with just anyone at breakfast—mostly Jerome, or he takes his food to go.”
“He’s being a good friend,” I countered.
“Or he’s flirting with you,” Vera said.
“Oh, he’s definitely flirting,” Samira said. “I see the way he looks at her during breakfast.”
I shook my head and glanced at Miri for some help, but she was almost asleep again. I thought about asking Samira and Vera to leave, but I figured they needed to spend time with her, whether she was awake or not.
It’d been so long since someone had flirted with me. I honestly didn’t know what to even look for. Other than Brendan, I hadn’t paid attention to another man in a long time.
I bit my lower lip, now wondering how many other signs I had missed.
“He’ll ask you out again,” Samira said, pulling me from my thoughts.
“The timing isn’t good,” I told her. “Miri and the kids are my focus right now.”
“Weston knows this. He wants to be there for you and the kids.”
“As a friend. That’s all I can take right now.”
The ladies nodded, but they had a little smirk playing on their lips, and something deep down told me this conversation was far from over.
By midweek, the news wasn’t good, and even though I’d expected that, it still tore me to pieces on the inside.
“Yesterday’s scans show the cancer has spread,” Dr. Frederick said. “It was our goal to keep the clusters contained, but we’ve been unsuccessful.” He rested his hand on Miri’s leg in what I’d come to see as a comforting gesture. For the little time I’d known this doctor, he’d had an impeccable bedside manner.
Miri and I said nothing after he’d left. What was there to be said? She already knew I was sorry and willing to do whatever I had to fight for her survival, but even the doctors in the best hospital had said there wasn’t much to be done.
I crawled into bed and held Miri as she cried. She clutched my blouse, her tears wetting the fabric, while my own fell onto the top of her hair. For a moment, I thought that my tears could save her, that they held the cure she needed. But even in my own fantasy world, I knew that was too far fetched to be believable.