Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 106538 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 533(@200wpm)___ 426(@250wpm)___ 355(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106538 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 533(@200wpm)___ 426(@250wpm)___ 355(@300wpm)
“Who’s here?” Tia asks.
“Maren’s here to braid Lola’s hair for track-and-field day,” I reply.
“That seems unnecessary,” Tia grumbles.
I ignore her because I wish she and Amos were unnecessary in my life.
“Good morning, Miss Lola,” Maren says, stepping inside and removing her shoes.
“Come downstairs,” Lola says with a quick pivot toward the stairs. “I’ll get my hairbrush and ties.”
Maren smiles at me. “Hi.”
My fucking grin jumps off a cliff, entirely out of control. “Hi.”
“Are you having a good morning?” she asks.
“As a matter of fact, I am. Coffee?”
“Sounds perfect.” Maren takes two steps and glances into the dining room, pausing for a friendly greeting. “Good morning.”
“Don’t you have a job?” Tia asks, being her most charming self.
Maren laces her fingers behind her back. “I’m a tanker pilot—an aerial firefighter. I have ten days on and five days off.”
“Cream or sugar?” I ask, attempting to save her from Tia.
“Black,” Maren says, glancing over her shoulder with a smile.
“I bet Ozzy is envious,” Amos says.
“Why is that?” Maren asks.
“Before our daughter died, Ozzy got his pilot’s license.”
Maren eyes me when I hand her a mug of coffee. “Really?”
I shrug. “It’s nice to be able to fly the planes I work on.”
She blows at the steam. “You’re full of surprises.”
“Am I?” I sip my coffee.
“Sounds like a dangerous job,” Tia says.
Maren faces the dining room table again. “It’s a necessary job.”
“Are you married?” Tia takes a bite of her toast.
“I’m not.”
“Kids?” Tia won’t quit.
“Nope.”
“Well, if you ever want a family, I imagine you’ll have to find a new job,” Tia says.
“Why is that?” Maren pushes back before I can jump in and save her. I don’t think Maren Bernabe needs anyone to save her.
“When you have children, you must put their well-being first.”
“By quitting my job?”
Tia frowns. “By not taking unnecessary risks.”
Maren hums. “That’s an interesting take on parenting. Well, I’d better get downstairs and braid Lola’s hair. It was nice chatting with you.” She heads to the stairs, and I follow her.
“I’m sorry about that,” I murmur.
“Don’t apologize. She lost her daughter.” Several steps from the bottom of the stairs, Maren turns. “I’m not a parent, but I can imagine that losing a child would change you forever. And not for the better.”
I let that sink in for a few seconds. If I lost Lola, like I almost did, I’d probably be a sad, grumpy, unbearable bastard.
“Here’s my brush.” Lola skips toward the stairs.
“Thanks.” Maren takes the brush and sits on the sofa, setting her coffee mug on the end table. “What kind of braid do you want? Just the sides? Pigtails? Twist? French? Infinity?”
Lola’s eyes pop out of her head as she sits on the floor between Maren’s spread knees. “I don’t know.” She giggles.
“I’ll do a French braid. It’s quick and easy.”
I stand with one arm over my chest and the other holding my coffee at my lips. It’s early in this relationship, too early to think about a future with Maren, but it’s hard not to when she does things like this.
When she rescues a kitten for my daughter.
When she stands up to Tia.
When she—everything.
“Does Bandit miss me?” Lola asks while Maren brushes her hair.
Maren winks at me. “Yes. He misses you already.”
“I knew it,” Lola says. “Dad, are you coming to watch my track-and-field day?”
“I am.”
“Are Nana and Pa coming?”
“I’m not sure. Pa has a doctor’s appointment, but I don’t remember what time he said.”
“Are you taking me to dinner, then?”
I laugh. “Lola, you sure know how to work me.”
“I think dinner is the least your dad can do, since it’s your big day,” Maren says.
I toss her a fake scowl.
“Tacos,” Lola says. “And dessert.”
“Girl after my own heart,” Maren adds.
“I’m outnumbered,” I say. “Lola, do you want a smoothie or a breakfast sandwich?”
“Smoothie.”
I nod, heading toward the stairs. “I’ll go make it.”
After I pull the fruit out of the freezer and add milk and yogurt to the blender, Tia brings her dirty dishes into the kitchen. I pray that she loads them into the dishwasher and ignores me.
No such luck.
“You’re setting that little girl up for heartbreak again,” Tia says after clearing her throat.
“I disagree.”
“I don’t know what you and that woman are doing, but Lola gets excited every time she sees her. What happens if the woman dies in a plane crash?”
I do my best to ignore her.
I add fruit and hemp seeds.
I blend.
I pour it into a glass.
But when I turn, Tia’s resting her backside against the counter, arms crossed over her robe-covered body.
I sigh. “That woman’s name is Maren. And you’re banking on her dying. Yet you’re so vocal about me overprotecting Lola when it comes to the car issue. You can’t have it both ways. Pick a side. Otherwise, you just sound like a bitter old woman whose only goal in life is to see me suffer.”