Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 48730 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 244(@200wpm)___ 195(@250wpm)___ 162(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 48730 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 244(@200wpm)___ 195(@250wpm)___ 162(@300wpm)
“Shut up.” I rolled my eyes. “We can do something. What about paintball or something like that? You could invite a couple of friends.”
“Nah, nothin’.”
“We have to do something,” I argued.
“Fine, I want stroganoff for dinner, a carrot cake—the one you make from scratch, none of that box shit—and the TV all to myself for a whole night.”
“That’s the dumbest birthday ever.”
“That’s what I want.”
“You gotta do something better than that,” Richie called as he brought me a maple bar.
“My favorite,” I said, grinning as he handed it over.
“I know.” He smiled back.
“You two are a little disgustin’, you know that?” Cian asked, wrinkling his nose.
“Birthday,” I reminded him firmly.
“Fine. Penny arcade,” Cian replied.
“Yeah!” Ronan bellowed.
“No,” I argued, pointing my doughnut at Cian. “Pick something for you.”
“Tattoo,” he said flatly.
“Try again.”
He stared at the ceiling, like he was searching there for his patience, then looked at me, snapping his fingers. “River,” he said. “All day.”
“Done,” I muttered around the bite in my mouth.
“And my cake.”
“That cake takes forever,” I complained half-heartedly.
“Please,” he argued, walking over to grab a doughnut. “I could tell you I wanted a chocolate box cake, and you’d still make my carrot cake. You always make my carrot cake.”
He wasn’t wrong.
“It’s nasty.” Ronan shuddered. “Who puts carrots in a cake?”
“Yet, you always eat it,” I mumbled under my breath.
“There’s zucchini in those chocolate muffins you love so much,” Cian shot back.
“What?” Ronan yelped, his head whipping around to stare at me in accusation.
“You’re an asshole,” I snapped at Cian.
“There’s zucchini in my muffins?” Ronan nearly shouted with horror.
“You can’t even taste it,” I replied placatingly.
“Why would you do that?”
“Because you’re going to melt into a puddle of artificial preservatives and sugar if I don’t sneak some vegetables into your diet,” I mumbled into my doughnut.
Richie laughed and wrapped an arm around my shoulders as we leaned against the counter. Ronan continued to pout, but I was relieved to see that the kids were all in pretty good moods otherwise. I’d been able to turn their night around.
“You didn’t text me back until after I was asleep last night,” Richie said quietly in my ear. “Everything okay?”
“Mother of the year struck again,” I whispered back. “I’ll tell you about it later.”
“Did you bring water balloons?” Aisling interrupted, looking at Richie. “Ronan said you were bringing more water balloons.”
“No, sorry.” Richie shook his head.
“Dang.”
“If you guys pick up all the balloon pieces out of the yard, I’ll pick some up today before my shift.”
“Why are you still workin’ at the pizza place?” Cian asked, his mouth full of doughnut. “Didn’t you just get a new job?”
“Yeah, but I haven’t started at the new one yet,” Richie replied. “I’m giving the parlor time to find someone to replace me.”
“No more random pizzas for us,” Cian joked in mock disappointment.
“In a couple of years, you can start working there and bring home your own pizzas,” Richie replied, smiling.
“I’m gonna work for a mechanic,” Cian contradicted. “That way I can keep Aoife’s piece of shit car running.”
I smiled. “That’s sweet.”
“I’ll need something to drive.” He shrugged.
“God, no,” I moaned. “No driving.”
“At least it doesn’t go above forty-five,” Saoirse pointed out helpfully. “He won’t be able to go very fast.”
“Thank you for that,” I replied dryly.
“I’m not wrong,” she said cheerfully.
“She really isn’t,” Richie added.
“You too?” I gasped.
“Your car was on its last leg ten years ago,” Richie said with a laugh.
“It gets me from here to the store and back.” I threw my hands in the air. “What more do I need?”
None of us mentioned that even if I wanted a new car, there was no way on earth I’d ever be able to afford one. I’d saved for over a year to get the one I had. I’d be driving that thing until it died.
“Who wants to go to the park?” Richie asked as the kids finished up their food.
“Me!” Aisling called quickly.
“The one by the skate park?” Cian asked.
“Yup.”
“Did you bring your board?”
Richie looked at him. “Obviously.”
“I’m in,” Cian replied.
“Me too!” Ronan raised his hand like he was at school.
“I’m bringing a book,” Saoirse piped in.
“Yeah?” Richie asked me.
“I just have to be back by two,” I replied, wrapping my arms around his waist. “I’ve got work at three.”
“Perfect.”
We took the kids to the park that day and almost every day after it that summer. Sometimes when I had to work on the weekends, Richie would even stop by the store to switch cars with me so he could bring the kids on his own. It was practically idyllic. It had been years in the making, but that first summer after high school really solidified our little unit.
Richie’s new job started at seven in the morning, he didn’t get home until four-thirty, and two nights a week he had to go to night school, but we got creative planning how to see each other when our schedules worked out. He came over most nights after the kids were in bed, and as we fell asleep, he’d tell me all about the guys he worked with and the different things they were teaching him. He loved his new job so much and listening to him was usually the highlight of my day.