Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 135300 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 677(@200wpm)___ 541(@250wpm)___ 451(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135300 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 677(@200wpm)___ 541(@250wpm)___ 451(@300wpm)
I can’t just explain away her hopes and dreams with lifeless logic, even if it’s the normal, adult thing to do.
“I’ll see what I can come up with, Sophie. Just give me some time,” I say firmly.
She leans forward and hugs me.
“Awesome! Thanks a ton, Margot. You rock.”
I rub her back, a little self-conscious.
I don’t deserve this little girl.
She’s already thanking me for a miracle I probably can’t deliver, and with so much gratitude you’d think I just made it rain puppies on parachutes.
But at the same time, warmth blooms in my chest.
I’m not used to kids hugging me. It’s surprisingly nice, and her skinny arms around my neck feel reassuring.
I give her a parting squeeze.
“I’ll definitely help out if I can, but just know, I can’t promise anything. Are you cool with that?”
“Oh, yeah, I know,” she says earnestly. “But that’s better than no one trying at all, right?” My surprise must show on my face, because she adds, “Dad’s cool and all. He just doesn’t get wanting to look pretty.”
No, I don’t suppose he does.
Dadzilla might be an expert at a lot of things, but that excludes his little girl’s style and self-image.
Sophie watches me a second longer, her small face pinched in thought.
“You know, it’s okay if you wanna kiss him,” she says slowly.
What?
I sputter, my fist banging my chest as I try to parse what she said. Surely, she didn’t actually mean—
“Kiss? Honey, are you talking about me and… your dad?”
She gives me a dull look. “Well, yeah. Who else?”
I can’t breathe.
“Why would you say that?”
“Dan said he saw you guys kissing in the attic.”
Holy shit!
I freeze.
“No, that was—” I stop before I hit a new low point in my life.
Dan did see. Or he’s smart enough to add it up.
I’m mortified.
“It’s cool, Margot,” Sophie whispers gently.
“It’s not cool. Not even a little.” My voice is so faint. No version of this fact will ever be okay. “It was a mistake, really—an accident. We weren’t thinking and we’re never going to do it again.”
What else can I offer her but the truth?
I think she’ll be relieved, or at least she’ll pick up on my humiliation and back off, but it turns out I’ve misjudged her.
She just folds her arms and looks at me stubbornly.
“You should.”
“I can’t believe we’re having this conversation.” I stop short of burying my face in my hands.
“Dad needs a girlfriend,” she hisses.
It’s so comical I could almost forgive her for springing this on me.
“I doubt he’d agree. And besides, Sophie, um…”
Where do I even start?
How do you explain to a child that a kiss doesn’t mean two people want a serious relationship?
Especially two people like us.
Kane Saint couldn’t be more different from everything I know.
Kids. Baggage. Big homemade breakfasts instead of croissants and coffee or green smoothies from a grab-and-go café.
Nothing says he even likes me enough to want to kiss me again beyond our shared thirst.
When I tried talking to him about it like a normal human being, he just bowed up and denounced what happened.
Probably for the best, honestly, because I’ve already decided it should never happen again.
But still.
There’s a difference between knowing something and having the man you kissed in a stuffy attic tell you what an awful move it was.
Especially when I’m the one who kissed him first.
Arrogant prick.
If it was a ginormous mistake—and yes, we both agree on that—then it was mine.
“Dad hasn’t been with anybody since Mom,” Sophie confesses with wide eyes.
I hate that I’m interested in this little nugget of news.
“Your mom?”
“Oh, she has loads of boyfriends. I barely remember their names.” Sophie’s voice is scathing. “Dad, he should get one lady friend, at least. It’s only fair.”
Oh, man.
I have no earthly clue how to interpret that statement, but my heart skips anyway.
So their mom is still in their life, but things are strained.
I mean, he has the kids here for fall, which must mean he has primary custody?
Not that I know much about how all that works. But I can’t pass up this opportunity to find out more.
I draw my legs up under me and face her like we’re two besties at a slumber party.
“What’s your mom like, anyway? Apart from the boyfriends, I mean.”
Her face screws up as she thinks, but she doesn’t tense up, which makes me think the question isn’t awful. Hopefully, talking about her mom isn’t a sore spot.
“Dad says she’s not very down-to-earth, and I guess he’s right,” she says eventually. “He needs somebody more grounded.”
Oof.
Let’s steer this conversation away from our dating potential.
“When did they split?”
“Last year. But it wasn’t great for a long time before that.”
“Are you okay? Do you need to talk to someone about it?”
“We did that for a while.” She shakes her head and her glasses slide down her nose. “Actually, it’s better now that we don’t. It’s starting to feel normal again.”