Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 78164 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78164 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
A few years ago, I would have felt like I own the blame of not maintaining that relationship. That everything’s always my fault. But I’ve grown since then. I’ve learned. Evolved. And I feel simply cautious and conscious that Carys might not be okay with me in her best friend’s life.
“And how did that go?” I ask, wincing.
“Gannon high-fived me for banging the hot stepmommy.”
“He did not.”
“You’re right. He didn’t.” Tate laughs. “Gannon has never high-fived anyone in his life.”
I exhale into the phone. Bastard.
“They were both perfectly fine with it,” he says. “Why wouldn’t they be?”
“I don’t know.”
“Carys said to make sure you come to my birthday party, and I assured her you’d be there.”
I sit up. “Your birthday?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s soon?”
“It’s the fourth, and we’re having a surprise party for me at Jason’s.”
What? “How is it a surprise party if you know about it?”
“Because surprise parties are more fun. Bianca’s coming with Foxx and Emery. Mom’s going to make it, too, I think. It’s going to be fun. You’ll love it.”
I swallow past the lump in my throat.
I’m not sure if I’m ready to meet the whole family.
Wouldn’t it be better to meet them in small groups? Next year, perhaps?
“What did you have for lunch?” he asks.
My stomach growls at the mention of food. “Nothing. I couldn’t get away from my desk.”
“Unacceptable.”
“Sorry to disappoint you, but I’m starving. Would you like to go to the movies tonight?”
“Sure. What do you want to see?”
“The concession stand.”
He snorts. “What?”
“I just want a big bucket of popcorn with extra butter. We can eat and then sleep through the movie.”
Tires squeal in the distance.
“Shit.” An engine roars, and I hear a downshift. “If that’s what you want to do, that’s what we’ll do.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah. Traffic.”
“I found your washer and dryer this morning and started a load with your sheets. I don’t have a lot of hope that the blueberry stains will come out.”
“I hope not.”
My brows pinch together. “Why? We ruined a perfect set of sheets.”
“I’d rather have the memories than perfection.” His engine roars. “I have to make a quick stop, and then I’ll be back in the office. I have something to discuss with you. Can you pencil me in for a quick chat?”
“It’s going to cost you.”
He laughs. “Talk soon.”
“Bye.”
I lay my phone on my desk and breathe a sigh of relief.
“Gannon high-fived me for banging the hot stepmommy.”
I laugh, shaking my head. It’s a goofy line, said to make me relax, and I appreciate Tate for knowing I needed the levity. I wonder, however, if he knows that all these references to various forms of parenting are making me think.
I’m not sure I’m ready for marriage again, but I am becoming more certain that I do want to have children. My age makes me worry. The fact that I’m not married and can’t even see the marriage path clearly makes me worry even more. But the more I think about having a baby, the more certain I feel that I want to experience motherhood.
The part that worries me the most? I can’t imagine sharing a child with anyone but Tate.
I trust him more than I’ve ever trusted a man. He’s the greatest to me. His employees adore him. The way he talks about his family proves that there’s not a bad bone in his body because if anyone else talks shit about another person, it’s their sibling.
He’s the kind of man with whom you’d want to raise a child.
Smart. Kind. A huge heart.
I look up as a knock sounds against my door.
“Come in,” I say, clearing my throat.
Tally barges in and plops into a chair. “I still hate it.”
“Oh no.”
“You know how they say that there are people for radio and people for television?”
“Kind of.”
“Well, there are people made to work in tech and people made to make it pretty. Those people are not the same.” She slides a folder across my desk. “These are the quotes that Charlie requested for a multitude of marketing items. Tate said to give them to you.”
“To me?”
I open the folder and flip through the pages. Each one is for an amount larger than the previous one. There are stacks of bills, all in alphabetical order, and the running total in my head makes me sweat.
This is crazy.
“This invoice is for fifty thousand dollars.” I gasp. “I can’t approve this.”
“Why not?”
I look up and find Tate leaning against the doorframe.
“It’s not my money to spend,” I tell him.
“What do you think when you look at those invoices?” he asks.
I leaf through a few on top. “Honestly? I love Charlie, and he does an amazing job. But I have no idea why we’re paying these prices. We can get a lot of this done much, much cheaper.”
Tally stands. “I’m going to go fight the tech department. Remember, I leave early tomorrow. Gotta get my pickleball physical.”