Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 121210 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 606(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121210 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 606(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
“Reddys! Reddys!” Summer exclaims, and it takes both Bennett and me a hot minute to figure out what she’s saying. But when she points a little index finger toward a container of cherries on the bar, Bennett laughs.
“You want a cherry, Summblebee?” he asks her, and she claps her hands excitedly.
“Yes!”
I don’t hesitate to cut up a few red cherries and put them in a cup before sliding them over toward Summer. Bennett carefully sets her on a barstool and stands behind her while she grabs one and shoves it into her mouth.
“Good, Summer?” I ask her, and she nods.
“More!”
Bennett chuckles. “Slow your roll, greedy. Finish those first.”
“You want anything to drink, sweetie?” I ask her, leaning forward on my elbows to meet her eyes. “Water? Vodka? A beer?”
“Beer?” she questions and Bennett sighs.
“I swear to God, Clay, I’ll put you back in the hospital.”
I laugh at that and get to work on making Summer a cup of water with a lid and a straw. Once I slide it over to her, she takes a drink. “Beer, Uncie Cay?” she asks, and I laugh.
“No, sweetie, that’s water.”
“Want beer!” she demands, and even Bennett can’t avoid a laugh.
“I can’t wait for the day you and Josie have kids,” he says tauntingly, but Summer has already forgotten her request entirely and gone back to eating her cherries. Sure, she’ll probably bring it up again at a most inconvenient time—like an eventual parent-teacher conference—but that’s why kids build character.
I can’t wait to have some of my own.
“Oh, get real, Ben. You and I both know you’re not capable of the fun uncle role like me,” I tell him and add a few more cherries to Summer’s cup. “You’re too much of a sourpuss, dude.”
Bennett flips me the middle finger behind Summer’s head. Poor schmuck knows I’m right.
I grin. “Love you too, Ben.”
His phone rings in his pocket, and he digs it out with a deep sigh, further fitting into his stereotypical role.
“Shit. I gotta take this,” he mutters, nodding toward Summer for me to take over. I walk out from behind the bar and take his place behind her on the barstool, ready to make sure she doesn’t take a tumble. For any kid, it’s dangerous; for her, it could be catastrophic.
Fuck. Now that I’m thinking on it, I’ve got to figure out some safer seating.
Bennett scoots out the front door to be able to hear his call, and I dig inside her little pink Disney Princess backpack to find a coloring book with crayons.
“You want to color, sweetie?” I ask, setting out the book and crayons on the bar in front of her.
Summer’s face turns from focused on cherries to smiling over Disney Princesses in an instant.
“Color!” she demands, but when I start to pick up the pink crayon, she shoves my hand away. “No, Uncie Cay. Mine.”
I grin down at her as she picks up the pink crayon, her little toddler fist clenching tightly around it, and starts to scribble lines of pink all over Snow White’s face. If Summer had a choice, she’d make everything pink. That’s evidenced by the fact that she’s currently wearing a pink T-shirt with jeans with sparkly pink shoes and a pink bow in her hair. Pink is Summer’s favorite color. Pretty sure it has been since the day she was born.
“Uncie Cay, color!” she requests, and I jump into action, picking up a green crayon and coloring on the opposite page where a mermaid—I think her name is Ariel?—is in the ocean with a few smiling fish surrounding her.
“Pitty!” Summer exclaims when she sees that I’ve colored the mermaid’s tail green. I don’t need an r to know she means it’s pretty. “Pitty Pi-tty, Uncie Cay!”
“Thank you,” I tell her with a smile. “And so is yours. I love her hair.”
“Piiiink,” Summer says proudly. “Pitty pitty pink.”
“What are you two up to?” The question comes from behind me, but the voice is more familiar than my own. I glance over my shoulder to find Josie standing there, her diner apron still around her poodle-skirt waist. She hates that damn uniform, but in my opinion, she’s a sight for sore eyes in anything she wears. I feel like it’s been weeks since I’ve spent any real time with her.
Between Camille needing Josie to work a bunch of her shifts at the diner and her sleeping at Rose’s house for the past ten days while she tries to go through everything, her surprise visit in my bar is more than welcome. I’m glad she’s finally found the strength to make strides in moving on, but I wish she’d let me help her.
“Oh, you know, just coloring Disney Princesses,” I say, but I also pull her into my arms and press a smacking kiss to her lips. “God, I’ve missed you.”