Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 99723 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 499(@200wpm)___ 399(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99723 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 499(@200wpm)___ 399(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
Trina isn’t convinced in the slightest. Despite our twenty-year age gap, she’s one of my best friends at work, and she knows the basic gist of my history, though I haven’t told anyone the worst of it. But she’s been around the block enough times to know that I don’t usually get blushy and weird about guys, nor do I let my son hang out with random strangers.
“You do that. Go check on him.” She does not mean Harley, but rather than argue, I start to head their way. “Oh, Briar?” I pause, turning back at her questioning tone. “If it matters, your friend has been talking with Harley literally all day. They’ve been thick as thieves over there, just watching the gibbons and having a grand old time. And if Harley likes him, and he makes you smile like a quokka does, that’s a good man in my experience. You deserve some good.”
I take a slow breath, her words touching me deeply. I do deserve some good, but Harley is the good in my life. Everything is centered on him, not me and definitely not a man. I learned that lesson. It’s just gotten harder to remember it lately.
“Thanks, Trina.”
Her words have the opposite effect than she intended, making me slow my pace as I walk toward Dominic and Harley. With each step, I remind myself . . . friends, friends, friends. But the two of them, sitting side by side, looking comfortable and chummy, make quite the cute picture.
“That’s a personal question there, kid,” I hear Dominic say.
I shouldn’t eavesdrop, but I slow even more, listening to see what my son has asked. With him, especially at this age, there’s no telling.
Harley grins, unrepentant. “You avoiding the question? Chicken.”
Dominic laughs loudly, completely unbothered by the callout from a child. “Definitely. But alright, you want the truth?” Harley nods wildly and I freeze, not even breathing with how much I want to hear this answer to a question I don’t even know. “I don’t think the knee socks are cringe at all. In fact, I think they’re pretty cute on some people.”
I glance down at my legs, which are in fact covered by khaki knee socks. I also have on knee-high muck boots because I’ve been cleaning out the flamingo pond, which means I smell like mud and dried shrimp.
Definitely sooo cute, I think. But I’m trying not to feel flattered because it’s pretty obvious I’m the “some people” Dominic is referring to. Unless he thinks Gary, the volunteer who specializes in primate education, is looking extra good today as he wanders the area, answering questions in, you guessed it . . . knee socks. Though I happen to know his are compression socks to help with his arthritis.
I clear my throat, getting both Dom’s and Harley’s attention. “Mom!” Harley yells, “Come look at the baby!”
My son seems completely oblivious that I might’ve overheard his conversation, or that I would care if I did hear, but Dom is smirking. He knows I heard, and to prove that point, he intentionally drops his gaze to my legs. When his eyes travel back up my body to meet mine, the look on his face has my cheeks feeling hot. Cargo shorts, knee socks, and muck boots have never felt like lingerie before, but under Dom’s appreciative eyes, they definitely do.
“What’s she doing?” I ask Dom instead of what I really want to ask, which is Want to see me without the socks on? or maybe, With only the socks on?
“Sitting beside Caprice,” Harley explains, sounding thrilled by what would seem to be a pretty boring day.
Dominic chuckles. “He seems really excited that she’s sitting?” He looks confused by my son’s exuberance.
“The baby is only three months old, so she spends almost the entire day and night clinging to her mother. Sitting beside her is a major milestone in her growth and development.” I get closer to the plexiglass, peering through it to see my favorite animal in the entire zoo . . . Caprice. “Did you tell him about the trick?” I ask my son, and he shakes his head.
“Trick?” Dominic echoes. His eyes bounce from me to Harley questioningly.
Instead of answering directly, I tilt my head back slightly and let out a loud, high-pitched whooping noise that sounds vaguely like a car alarm going off. Harley grins. Dominic looks surprised and horrified in equal measures. “What the—”
I don’t have to explain, though. Caprice does it for me, answering with a car alarm sound of her own. Whoop whoop whoop whooooop.
I close my eyes for a moment to listen to her song, feeling the happiness in it. She’s proud of her baby and wants to show off her progress. “I see her, Mama,” I tell Caprice, even though she can’t hear me through the viewing window. But her eyes stay on me, like she knows I’m talking to her.