Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 73665 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73665 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Mika’s thin eyebrows draw in over her nose. She chugs back the milk and sighs, wiping her upper lip. Somehow, all her makeup stays in place. “When are you going to ask her to move in with you? Pleaseeeee tell me it’s soon.”
It floors me that even though Mika and I spent so many years apart, our wavelength is so frighteningly similar. “Did Bellatrix say anything about that?”
She snorts. “Never. She’s very private about you guys unless it’s telling me how wonderful you are, and kind, and considerate, and all the barf-worthy sappiness.”
We’re both as private about our relationship as we can be. Not ashamed. There’s a difference. Bellatrix doesn’t even have social media. She did when she worked as a wedding planner, but she deleted it after the jerkholes fired her. She doesn’t believe in public consumption, and that’s incredibly refreshing. Instead of worrying about a life lived online, she just lives her real one to the fullest.
A few weeks ago, she took me to a playground in the middle of the city so we could swing at two in the morning. She was irrationally worried about getting arrested, but there was no one around, and even if there had been, I’m sure we would have been fine. She has also tried convincing me to go skinny dipping, but since it’s October, that’s something we’ll have to save until next year. I plan to help her with the other items on the love life bucket list that she intended for me. They all deserve to become a reality.
Especially her pet a cat if a cat wants to be petted, or a dog, or pet all the animals wish.
“I have a surprise for her later tonight. After we close up, I’m going to ask her.” I’ve been nervous about this for weeks, which was when the idea first started churning around in my brain.
Despite her dark makeup, Mika is all sunny smiles. “Yes!” She claps her hands. “Yes. She’ll love it. Don’t worry.”
“It’s only been a few months,” I point out nervously.
“Yes, but you guys move at a pace that is entirely your own. It might be weird to the rest of the world, but who cares? The rest of the world can suck it up.” She goes utterly still and gets totally serious. “You deserve to be happy, Dad, and Bellatrix deserves every good thing ever. Don’t worry about rational timelines. Those are for people with zero imagination.”
Mika’s support means everything. “You deserve every good thing ever too.”
Her eyes sparkle with unshed tears. “Oh my godddd, Dad. I know that. Don’t make me cry about it.”
She does, though. Truly. In a world where it’s so easy to become bitter, where people love to say horrible things and love to hear them even more, Mika has never let any of that get to her. She’s always been happy for Bellatrix, and she encouraged her from the first. I can’t imagine what it would have been like stumbling into my soulmate, only to have my daughter be dead set against it because that person also happened to be her best friend. Mika hasn’t just encouraged us to be together. She’s been in both our lives so seamlessly, though I know what a great amount of effort that takes.
Someone jostles Mika from behind, but instead of getting mad about it, her smile becomes a grin. “There’s going to be a full mutiny in here if I don’t get out of the way. Let me know when you’re starting to book other bands. I have a few friends who would love a chance to play somewhere.”
“Anytime. For you, anytime,” I say to Mika.
She laughs. “I’ll tell them then. You just focus on serving drinks, romancing the world’s best woman, and doing you because you have always been really cool.”
She leaves me with that, dancing away across the open stretch of floor in the middle of the lounge in her massive platforms. She didn’t start the night by sitting with Bellatrix’s parents, but when she approached their table, they quickly gestured at a chair for her.
Bellatrix opens her eyes at the movement so close to the raised stage, and her face breaks into a perfectly gorgeous smile. In the next second, her hazel eyes flash to me. Our gazes lock, and her lips curl into a soft, private smile just for me.
“Lock the door,” she mouths. “And come here.”
She’s not serious, but when she sees that I nearly fall over and have to clutch the bar, her smile widens playfully.
She never misses a single note for the rest of the night while I’m at the bar, fumbling over everything. I spill at least three drinks, drop a full bottle, and mix up orders incessantly. It’s astounding that no one gives me any grief about being the world’s most inept bartender.