Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 86537 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86537 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
“That’s where the honorary part comes in. Or he or she could just be your friend.”
“Is it going to be a boy or a girl?”
“I don’t know,” I replied. “It’ll be a surprise.”
“Hm.” She fixated on the chorizo again, nibbling her bottom lip. “I looked up some facts about babies to go with our fruit facts.”
A grin spread across my face like wildfire. “Oh, yeah? Like what?”
“Did you know that babies have more bones than adults?”
“No way.”
She shrugged. “I think it’s ’cause their skulls are in pieces. Gross.”
I chuckled and turned off the burner. “That’s interesting.”
Gretchen jumped off the stool. “I have another one.”
“Bring it.”
“Did you know that babies can cry and swallow at the same time?”
“Are you pulling my leg?” I winked, shaking a leg as I rinsed off the jalapeños.
“Oh, brother.” She snorted. “Also…they also use a lot of diapers. Like…thousands.”
“You’re gonna help me change this kid, right?” I joked, reaching for a paper towel.
“Ew! That’s so icky!” She made a sucked lemon face followed by a round of faux gagging.
I threw my head back and laughed. “Okay, okay. Just kidding. You’re off the hook.”
She frowned. “I can help. Not with anything gross, but I can do something. I could read to the baby.”
“That would be very nice,” I replied, touched by the offer. “I bet babies like fruit facts.”
Another eye roll. “No, I think they like boring baby books.”
“And fruit facts.” I clapped, signaling it was time to focus on food. “I’m going to remove the seeds and chop the jalapeño finely. As in so small, it’ll look like tiny green specks. After that we’ll make our batter, fold in our special ingredients, and put a batch in the oven. We have twenty minutes before your dad picks you up so, let’s do it.”
Gretchen smacked my outstretched palm and flounced her cape behind her theatrically. She was all smiles again, chattering away till the bell rang above the door in the donut shop and Reg called a greeting.
“We’re in the kitchen, Daddy!” Gretchen licked icing from her fingers and whispered, “Shh. Don’t tell him it’s spicy.” I made a zipped-lip motion that made her giggle and add, “This is going to be so funny. I hope we still get to do this after the baby comes.”
I didn’t have a chance to reply. Reg bounded in, looking exhausted and Rhys was pumped up from practice, talking a mile a minute about his awesome touchdown and the teammate whose mom brought freeze pops for the kids ’cause it was so hot outside.
I nodded along and plied them with donut treats while acutely aware of another shift.
No so long ago, I’d hoped to join their family. I’d wanted to be part of something safe and kind. Maybe it was me wanting to be on a team again. And I’d loved Reg—just not the way you’re supposed to love someone you thought you could spend your life with. But I’d respected him, wanted him. I’d loved his kids’ energy, their tenacity, and their individuality. And they’d liked me. That had seemed like a solid start. The rest would have come with time. If he’d have let me, I would have forced a happy ending and made us out to be something we weren’t. No better than my mother.
Gretchen was smarter than the average kid. She’d known about her dad and me, even though we’d gone out of our way to tell the kids we were only friends. Reg and I hadn’t made any promises to each other, let alone his kids, but she’d sensed a loss, another separation, another divorce, another way her world was shaken and rendered unsafe.
I’d bonded with Rhys over flag football and with Gretchen over the alchemy of donuts and when it was obvious that Reg and I were cooling off, I’d assured them nothing would change.
But change was definitely coming.
She knew it. Months ago, she’d admitted that she didn’t want to share my time. But the truth was…she didn’t want to be forgotten. No one did.
“Hey, Gretch.”
She turned in a flurry, the black fabric of her cape twisting around her slim body. “Yeah?”
“Donuts are forever.”
I was rewarded with a shy grin and a fierce hug.
Reg held the door open with one hand, his gaze darting between his kids racing for his truck and back to me. “Thank you. She thinks you’re the bees’ knees.”
“I am.”
He chuckled lightly. “I know you are. G’night, Dex.”
I locked the door and drew the window blinds, my mind spinning in five directions. I was supposed to be at a game in Elmwood in an hour, but I was hungry and no, I would not be eating another donut. The chorizo jalapeño was going to be a hit, though. Even Viggo would love it.
Buzz buzz
My pulse revved as I glanced at my cell, frowning at the caller ID.