Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 116231 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 581(@200wpm)___ 465(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116231 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 581(@200wpm)___ 465(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
“Got it,” I say, not telling her that if her mother wants her to practice reading, she should go and get her own goddamn books. Instead, I smile at her and bend to kiss her soft light brown hair. “Your breakfast is on the counter,” I tell her and she nods, going to walk down the steps. “Did we brush our teeth?”
She snorts, “I forgot.” She laughs and runs back to her bedroom where she has the Jack and Jill bathroom with Westley. “Daddy,” she shouts, “Westley said I can’t brush my teeth, he’s in here!”
“Westley,” I throw over my shoulder, “share the sink.”
“Ugh, Dad, can I have my own bathroom?” he groans and I chuckle as I grab her bag and head downstairs.
“Vincent!” I shout. “Let’s go, buddy.”
“Dad,” he groans out my name, “five more minutes.”
“Your mother is going to be here in twenty minutes, and you still have to eat. Don’t make me come and drag you out of the bed.”
“Fine,” he huffs. I can hear him mumbling to himself and only then do I start to go down the stairs.
“Daddy!” Nora shouts. “Westley spit toothpaste on my toothbrush.”
“Westley!” I shout his name in a stern voice.
“It was an accident.” I shake my head and walk to their shared bathroom. “I was spitting out my toothpaste and she put her toothbrush there.” He points to Nora; I walk over and pull out the first drawer to see if we have another toothbrush, and we don’t.
“Did you brush your teeth already?” I ask her and she nods her head. “Then you’re good, go eat.” I look at her hand under the water. “Toss that in the garbage. I’ll get you another one for next time.”
“Okay,” she sings, and I look over at Westley.
“I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt.” I point at him. “But next time”—he gives me a smirk, so I know he did it on purpose—“you get grounded.”
“Deal,” he says. “Can I get my own bathroom?”
“Yeah,” I reply sarcastically, “I’ll get right on that, build you your own wing too.” He rolls his eyes. “Go eat.” I motion with my head toward the door, and he runs out of the room.
I get to the hallway at the same time as Vincent walks out of his room. He’s wearing a pair of shorts and a T-shirt. “Buddy, your shirt is backward,” I say, and he looks down, “and inside out.”
“Ugh,” he huffs as if I just told him he has to go outside and run around the block fifty-five times. “Who cares?”
“Well, for one, I care. And for two, your mother is going to care. Change it.”
“Whatever,” he huffs out, walking down the stairs, and I look up at the ceiling. Out of the three of them, he’s the one who understands what is happening the most. He also overheard his mother on the phone talking about it. So that was a nice surprise when he came over to the new house I bought two weeks after walking in on her banging Jeremy. He waited to ask me when it was just the two of us. I did my best to tell him that sometimes two people just fall out of love. Needless to say, he’s resentful of his mother, which in turn is all my fault, according to her.
I walk down the steps and put Nora’s bag at the door before walking back into the kitchen. The three of them are sitting on the stools around the kitchen island. “I don’t want cereal,” Vincent informs me. “Can I have a bagel instead?”
“Yeah,” I agree, walking over to the pantry and grabbing the bagels.
“I want one too,” Westley adds and I look over at Nora, who is already eating the bagel she asked for last night when she went to bed. I’m plating the bagels when the doorbell rings, and I look over to see she’s five minutes early.
“I’ll get it,” I tell them. “You guys finish your breakfast.”
I walk to the front door, and Josephine stands there wearing a short white skirt and a tank top, her smile goes bigger when she sees it’s me. “Knox,” she says my name.
“The kids are just finishing breakfast,” I tell her; usually, I let the kids answer the door and we don’t talk to each other at all. Not a word. “Can you give them five or do you want me to pack up their things to go?”
“No,” she says, “it’s fine, I can come in and wait.”
I laugh at her. “No,” I counter, “you can wait in your car.” I shut the door in her face, but she pushes it back open.
“We have mediation today.”
I roll my eyes. “Don’t remind me,” I tell her. “You can just sign the papers, there really is no reason to go through mediation. My lawyer has already told you the terms I want.”