Total pages in book: 209
Estimated words: 196085 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 980(@200wpm)___ 784(@250wpm)___ 654(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 196085 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 980(@200wpm)___ 784(@250wpm)___ 654(@300wpm)
“Yes!” I yell back.
I shake my head with a smile, running back to the master bedroom to put on the bracelet.
Daddy took me out to a jewelry store and we picked it up the morning after we got back from the cabin. He says it is his favorite thing to see on me and I love it. It’s gold with a ‘xoxoxo’ in inlaid tiny diamonds. He’s bought me other things since we’ve been together, but this bracelet he insists I keep it on all the time.
Fifteen minutes later I park the Jeep at the baby shop.
Stas bought the car for me.
Honestly, I haven’t driven it much—I prefer to let Daddy drive me—but it was only a week after I moved in when he got it for me. He knew I didn’t have a car and pressed me until I admitted I’d always wanted a Jeep.
The very same day there was a knock at the door, Stas standing behind me smiling as a man in a suit handed me keys and outside there was a white jeep with a black top decorated with a giant pink ribbon sitting in the driveway.
He doesn’t work slowly.
I feel sick again so I wrap my arms around myself and practice the deep breathing Daddy and I worked on before I left. I close my eyes and imagine the donkeys and Stas, filling my mind with tranquil thoughts and wait for the nausea to pass.
Once the worst has passed, I open my eyes on a deep breath and grab my purse from the passenger seat. There’s a contented joy wrapping all around me as I turn to open the door and hop out.
But that joyful wrap is torn away when I jump half out of my skin.
My mother is here.
She’s standing just outside the open door.
“Hi, Steph.” She looks older.
A lot older. And my stomach twists into six kinds of blood knots.
“What are you doing here? Did you follow me?” I bark as my feet hit the ground and I immediately start to dig around in my purse for my phone. “Stalker.”
It’s shocking, but even after everything. After all this time. There’s this part of me deep down that craves her love. Craves her approval.
It’s hard not to hate myself for those feelings right now. An internal struggle catapults itself into my head. The little girl who looked up to her versus the woman who knows better.
My first thought is to call Stas and tell him that I’m at the store and I’m face to face with my mother. I know he’ll be here inside of a second.
“Wait! I wanted to see you. Grandmother had a stroke. She’s not going to make it. I followed you from the house.” Her accusatory tone does nothing to soften my vitriol.
“What’s with everyone staking out our house? God, we’re going to move and none of you will ever find us again. You shouldn’t be here, you should be with your mother.” I pull out my phone and her hand darts out to grab my wrist. I shoot daggers at her with my eyes, then soften when I see what is looking back at me. She’s sort of pitiful. A wave of sadness engulfs me as the thought dawns that my baby won’t have any loving grandparents to dote on him. Or her. “I’m calling Stas.” I pull my hand back.
“Please.” Her voice cracks. “Please don’t, not yet. He won’t let you talk to me and I just need to talk to you, princess.”
My former pet name slices deep into the most painful parts of my childhood.
They would only use that name when I won a pageant, lost weight or achieved some stupid goal they’d set for me. It was the only affection I received, and it was always circumstantial and conditional.
“Talk.” I keep the phone out but give her a moment to make her case for listening to whatever she has to say. “The clock is ticking.”
“Can we…” She looks around. “Can we go somewhere? Coffee, maybe? There’s a coffee shop just around the corner. I’ll drive. I can’t get up into your car—my hip, you remember—well it’s worse than ever. Please, Stephanie. I’ve missed you so. I’ve changed. You leaving made me see things I didn’t before. What happened last week, I didn’t have anything to do with all that. It was your father and your grandmother’s idea.”
“Right here is fine.” I counter, steeling myself against all the childhood Stephanie’s hopes for a connection with this woman.
“Grandmother is dying and…I’m leaving your father.” She chokes back a sob and for some reason I feel sorry for her. “I need to talk to you, princess. Please, just for a little while. There are things I need to tell you. Just come with me for a half hour, I’ll bring you right back here. I promise. For your mother, Steph, I’m begging you.”