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)
“Missed you too.”
“Tell me you’re sleeping at my place tonight. I can’t do another night without you.”
Josie’s lips turn down in a frown. “I’m still trying to get through more stuff… I don’t know…”
“Then I’ll come stay at Rose’s.”
“You don’t need to do that, Clay.”
“You don’t want me to stay there with you?” I question, desperately wanting to break this long-ass streak of us not sleeping in the same bed and barely seeing each other. Ten fucking days without my wife is ten days too many.
“It’s not that.” She shakes her head and averts her eyes for a long moment. “It’s just that… I don’t know… I think it’s a job I need to do alone.”
I’m trying to give Josie the time and space she needs. I know the past few months have dumped a mountain of bad shit on her. But fuck, it’s hard. I want my wife, you know? I want her in our bed and in our apartment. Because that’s the reality. It’s not my place anymore. It’s Josie’s and my place.
I start to open my mouth, to push her a little more on me staying over at Rose’s with her tonight, but Josie pulls her eyes away from mine to press a kiss to Summer’s forehead and look down at the pages of her coloring book. It’s probably for the best. I know I have a tendency to push too hard.
“Oh, Summer, I love your picture.”
“Pitty?” Summer asks and Josie nods.
“Very pretty.”
“Piiink.”
“I see that.”
“Lovvv pink.”
“You might love pink as much as my sister Norah does,” she says, and I’m shocked at the admission. Josie hardly ever talks about her mom or sister anyway, and since Grandma Rose’s funeral, hardly has turned into never.
“Siss-ter?” Summer questions and Josie nods.
“Yep. My sister.”
Summer looks around the bar, as if she’s trying to find Josie’s sister, but Josie is quick to correct her. “Norah doesn’t live here. She lives somewhere else.”
Summer searches Josie’s face, her little mind trying to understand. “Heee?”
“No.” Josie shakes her head. “Norah isn’t here.”
“Sa-sa?” Summer questions. “Saaa-d.”
Josie doesn’t answer. Instead, she picks up a red crayon and colors in my mermaid’s hair.
“Oh, pitty!” Summer exclaims when she sees it. “Red! Pitty red!” For her age, she’s actually pretty advanced with her colors, and my chest puffs up with uncle pride.
Josie taps Summer’s nose with an affectionate finger. “Not as pretty as you, sweetie.”
Summer grins up at Josie, and it makes my heart grow ten sizes in my chest. Fuck, I love this woman. I love everything about her. Sure, she’s complicated and complex and stubborn and sometimes it’s hard to get a read on her, but she’s my favorite person. Ever.
I want to grow old with her. I want to marry her again in front of all our nearest and dearest. I want it all, and I only want it with her.
“Summer, will you ask Josie when she’s going to marry me again?” I say, pretending to whisper into Summer’s ear, but saying it loud enough for Josie to hear. “I love her so, so much.”
Summer’s eyes go wide, and she looks up at Josie. “Many, Uncie Cay?”
“Marry,” I correct her.
“Ma-wee,” she repeats the word, and I nod. “Ma-wee Uncie Cay?” she asks Josie, and my wife’s face would win a poker game.
“Someday, sweetie,” is all she says before going back to coloring in the mermaid’s crown with a yellow crayon.
“Ma-wee?” Summer asks, her eyes now locked on my face.
“You want to know what that word means?”
“Ma-wee?” she questions again, and I pick up a crayon and draw two figures in a blank area on her Snow White page.
“This one is the girl.” I point to the one I drew with long hair, a wedding gown, a veil, and flowers. The name Josie is written above it. “This is Josie. She’s wearing a pretty wedding dress.”
“Flou-ahs?” Summer points at the page, and I nod.
“And she has pretty flowers too.”
“Pink?”
“Yes.” I smile down at her. “Pretty pink flowers.”
“So pitty!” She claps her hands.
“And this one is the boy.” I point to the figure with a tuxedo and bow tie and the name Clay written above it. “This is Clay, and he loves Josie very, very much.”
“Awwww,” Summer says.
“And since Clay loves Josie so, so much, he wants to marry her. When you love someone, you marry them.”
“Love? Maw-ee?”
“Yes,” I answer and write the words Love and Marry. “L-o-v-e. Love,” I spell it out. “M-a-r-r-y. Marry.” And then I write the words Clay loves Josie above the two figures.
“Awwww.” Summer smiles so hard that two dimples form in her cheeks. But it’s not long before she’s back to coloring with her pink crayon. Though, I don’t miss the fact that she carefully avoids the illustrated Josie and Clay on the page.
“So, Josie? You ready to marry me again?” I question, smiling over Summer’s head at her. “I mean, Summer seems to think it’s pretty cute. Pretty sure she said Awwww at least five times. Though, you’re probably going to have to consider having pink flowers for your bouquet. Otherwise, I think our girl might be disappointed, you know?”