Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 107352 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 537(@200wpm)___ 429(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107352 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 537(@200wpm)___ 429(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
Darwin nodded. “My teacher was wrong the other day about a math problem, and when I raised my hand to try to show her what she’d messed up, she didn’t let me.”
“In that instance, leaving in the middle of class isn’t possible, right?”
“No, it’s not.”
“But when you come home, you can tell your dad, and he will call and make an appointment to see her, with you, and you can explain the situation.”
“I wrote out the answer for her, but she wouldn’t check it.”
Poor lady. Having Darwin correct her math had to be both humiliating and annoying. The thing was, it was always best to own your error. I often thought the world would be a better place if people just said yeah, mea culpa, I screwed up.
“Sometimes, when people are called out on the mistakes they make, it’s hard for them. So the best thing to do, again, is tell your dad.”
“And if he won’t listen, will you call her?”
“I will. But let’s give Dad a chance first, yeah?”
“Yeah, give Dad a chance,” Luke chimed in from behind me.
We all turned to him.
“I thanked everyone for coming and sent them home, except for Shelly and her friends, because Shelly wants to talk to you,” he directed his words to his daughter, “and fix things up.”
He then walked into the bathroom, took a hand towel off the rack, and had Tatum lean toward him. Gently, he patted her face dry, and when he was done, she melted into his arms and he hugged her tight.
“You have to let me know if someone is upsetting you, Tate. I couldn’t tell from across the room. But Shelly is very sad she made you cry.”
“Will you stay by me when I talk to her?”
“Of course I will.”
“She wants a new key to the house too, but—”
“No, we’re not gonna do that. Nash was right to change them all. It should be just us.”
“He said we needed to reclaim our space the first day.”
He squinted at me. “I think Nash has spent a bit too much time with therapists and has picked up way too many fancy words.”
I scowled at him, and he smiled back.
“Regardless, no one needs a key but us.”
“You mean Nash too when you say us, don’t you?”
“Of course I do.”
Reason number 527 why I had to go. This was doing nothing remotely helpful.
“And you promise to hold my hand when I talk to Aunt Shelly?”
“Absolutely,” he said, smiling as he held his daughter.
I stood and moved around them, and at the door, eased Darwin into the room as I took his place in the doorway.
As soon as Luke released Tatum, waiting as I did when she was in my arms for her to pull away first, Darwin was next, and I heard Luke sigh deeply as he embraced his son. Griff bumped my side, and when I lifted my arm, he leaned into me.
“When I drop you off at school on Wednesday, we’ll go early so I can have a word with your teacher,” Luke assured Darwin.
“Are you gonna go with us to see our therapist tomorrow?” Griff asked his father. “Or will you be too busy?”
The first test, and I wasn’t missing it, and neither did Luke. Teenagers.
“No, I’ll be there,” he stated, and the arched eyebrow for his son made me grin. “Maybe your doctor will want to talk to me as I’m the only one who can give deep insight into what you were like as a baby. Maybe she wants to really dig into your childhood and potty training and your biblical hatred of cauliflower.”
Griff stared at him, Luke grinned back, and after a moment Griff snorted out a laugh he couldn’t hold in. “Biblical?”
“You used to be able to spit for distance like a llama.”
Darwin and Tatum found that as funny as their brother, and Luke gave me an eyebrow waggle.
“Nice,” I said, grinning.
Even only half a day in, such progress. It was a good thing.
Downstairs, it was quiet, and Griff, Darwin, and I went to investigate all the food that had been dropped off as Tatum, holding on to Luke’s hand, spoke to her mother’s friend.
“What is this?” Griff asked, lifting a clear-glass casserole dish, with lid, over his head.
“You have to smell it,” Darwin told him. “Looks like noodles on the bottom.”
Once he lifted the lid and inhaled, he confirmed the worst. “It’s tuna casserole.”
I took a big step back, breathing through my nose so I wouldn’t puke.
Griff, if his grin was any indication, found the face I was making and the quick, quiet retch that came out of me, very amusing.
“It won’t be that funny when I throw up on your shoes.”
“I think tuna casserole is gross too, but why all that?”
“Have you ever eaten something and it made you sick, and then afterward, just smelling whatever it was made you gag?”