Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 97994 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97994 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
He points to Juliette.
Nor is he wrong; I was staring.
I can’t help it ’cause she’s so fucking adorable.
“Yeah,” another squeaky voice pipes up. “Plus, your chair looks like it’s gonna break.”
A chorus of giggles fills the room as someone else says, “My dad broke a lawn chair once.”
“Thanks for sharing,” I mumble, feeling my face get hot.
Jesus Christ. Maybe this was a horrible idea. I’m starting to regret it; these kids are armed, ready and anxious to begin.
Here’s the thing: they’re all in on my secret.
All of them are part of this plan.
Trust me when I say, it wasn’t easy to coordinate children participants—there was barely any time to rehearse and zero time to make sure they were all willing. But here we are and there’s no turning back.
I watch as Dorian Meier, one of the Wolves forwards, walks past the glass-walled community room, brows raised as he gazes in curiously, pausing with his hands on his hips at the sight in front of him. I feel like I’m in a fishbowl.
“Bro, keep walking…”
He does not keep walking and I have no choice but to clear my voice and proceed.
“Alright everyone,” I begin. “First I want to thank you for coming on the tour today, and for your patience.” Beneath their scrutiny, I shift in the chair. “Normally we read a book about ice hockey but today is a special day, and we have a special guest.”
Their heads swivel and crane, trying to determine who the special guest is.
Eyes home in and lock on Garrett Storm, who hovers nearby. Even though he isn’t my special guest, he was a necessary evil; I need his help with the cue card hiding amongst the kids and with the prompts.
Storm winks at me.
My nerves are frayed but the kids are anxious, restlessly flapping the cards they were given when they entered the room. Several kindergarteners hold them, beady eyeballs staring expectantly.
Right.
Time to get this party started.
I clear my throat. “Once upon a time, there was a bear named Bandit who made a very bad choice.” I pretend to turn a page. “Bandit was big and burly—like me—and hurt someone he cared about very much.”
Also like me.
One of the little girls raises a cardboard cue card: HE HURT THE SWEETEST PERSON HE EVER MET.
Juliette’s brows shoot up, confused by the crowd participation.
I keep reading. “The bear wished he could go back and make a different choice, but bears cannot travel through time.”
A blonde-haired cutie scoffs. “You would need a time machine to do that.”
I ignore her. “So instead, the bear apologized.”
A second card pops up: SAID SORRY A LOT.
Then another: AND ON THE JUMBOTRON.
Then, from the back row: GROVEL HARDER, DUDE.
I raise my eyes from the book I’m pretending to read and glare at Storm. He shrugs when I say, “That was not on my list of things to write on the cue cards.”
He laughs. “Just helpin’ out, bro. I was inspired to get creative.”
But he’s correct—I do need help.
I lower the book onto my lap.
The community room quiets and the adults in the room look thoroughly entertained. Despite the glitter-covered poster board and the fact that my ass has gone completely numb from this chair, I’m excited. What I’m about to say next is the most important part of this moment.
I look to Juliette.
She is the kindest, sexiest, sweetest woman I’ve ever known, and my heart grew ten sizes the second she came into my life.
Inhaling a nervous breath, the words I rehearsed on the drive here come pouring out of my mouth. “I know I apologized to you, Juliette, but it doesn’t feel like I’ve groveled enough.”
The kids are blessedly quiet as I steel my nerves and continue. “I wish I could go back to that night at the bar and re-meet you after your date with Preston, that douche. I wish I’d had no ulterior motive. I wish I’d immediately set out to date you, gotten your phone number, and flirted and texted you like a normal person.”
A cue card slowly rises: HE WAS A DUMMY!
“I was the biggest dummy,” I admit with a laugh.
A giant fucktwat.
“My mom calls my dad dumbass a lot,” a boy in a navy-striped shirt volunteers helpfully. “Is that the same thing?”
I laugh. “Yes.”
Juliette bites down on her lower lip, a smile threatening to burst.
She’s happy, I can see it in her eyes.
I did that.
I make her smile…
I continue. “I wish I’d taken you to dinner because I couldn’t stop thinking about you, not because I was trying to prove something to your brother. I wish I’d sat across from you in that steakhouse and told you the truth about why I was there.”
Another sign lifts: SEE? TOTAL DUMMY.
A hand flies up near the back.
“Yeah?”
“Did your mom yell at you for treating a girl like that?”
My head shakes. “No. My mom lives too far away.”