Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 130307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 652(@200wpm)___ 521(@250wpm)___ 434(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 130307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 652(@200wpm)___ 521(@250wpm)___ 434(@300wpm)
I also had a group text with the girls, photos of Grace in Spain the current topic of conversation. Well, that and the photo Livia had sent, which was of a cylinder-shaped object that looked like tall cup covered by a fake vagina.
I wasn’t sure I wanted to know what it was for.
The fireplace was setting the mood, and I was feeling Zen in my coziest pajamas — the only set of thick ones I owned, since living in Florida meant I was usually sweating, not shivering. But we’d had a cold front blow in, and it was just shy of fifty degrees as the sun cast its final rays of gold along the pool.
I had the evening off — by strict orders from Mr. Perry, who had all but threatened me to stay gone until Chef Patel called us for dinner. Between school and his rigorous schedule lately, he hadn’t had much time with Ava, so he was taking over for the night and wanted me to do whatever it was I would usually do before I became his nanny.
I hadn’t fought him. I absolutely adored Ava, but I truly was exhausted, and a night to myself sounded like heaven.
I was also maybe still cringing from my last conversation with Will, where’d I’d admitted in an unfortunate case of word vomit that I’d lost my virginity to an old rap song with my head hanging off the bed.
He’d all but avoided me since then, which told me it had been a drastic overshare instead of the silly little self-deprecating joke I’d meant for it to be. The girls had found it hilarious when I provided the play by play in the group chat. Of course, Livia had then demanded a voice note explaining everything.
I divulged the details, but left out the part of that being not just my first time having sex, but my only time.
So, yes — I’d gladly taken a night off from the awkward tiptoeing around my disturbed boss. Evidence pointed to the fact that I needed the night, too, because my midnight existential crises had turned into midnight fantasies about a certain long-haired, muscle-covered man whom I could not stop thinking about.
Trouble. With a capital T.
I needed to rein it in.
Still, it had felt quiet all night. Too quiet. And I couldn’t help the smile that split my face when Ava slid into my room on her fuzzy, sock-covered feet.
I laid my cross-stitch in my lap. “Hello, angel bug.”
Ava had arrived with all the grace of an elephant on roller blades, her eyes wide, breath shallow, hair a mess like she’d run through a dark magical forest to safety. I half-expected her to tell me we had a dragon to fight outside, but instead, she took a moment to compose herself, sweeping her hair out of her face and folding her little hands in front of her lap.
“I need your help,” she informed me, her chin tilting up, face completely neutral.
“I’m at your service.”
I set the cross-stitch aside and made sure my phone was face down on the bed — just in case Livia sent any other photos. Then, I swung my feet over the edge of the bed, patting the spot next to me.
Ava eyed the bed like she was regretting her choice of coming to ask me for help, but then she ambled over, and I helped her climb up next to me. For a while, she stared at where her legs hung off the mattress, her little toes curling in her socks. She, too, was bundled up — and there was something so adorable about seeing her in tiny gray sweatpants and a Tampa Bay Ospreys blue hoodie that swallowed her slight frame.
“I wanna ask Daddy to come to the thing,” she finally said, tucking her hands under her thighs.
I didn’t have to ask for clarification to know what the thing was.
In class today, I’d reminded my rowdy little munchkins that we’d be having Donuts with Daddy on Friday.
I both loved and hated these types of events. On the one hand, it made the kids happy as clams to have their parents, siblings, or grandparents come into the classroom — attendees dependent on what the theme of the event was.
On the other hand, it was hard to avoid very complex emotions when you had children who perhaps didn’t have both parental figures in their lives, or who knew their parents were too busy to join for days like this.
Of course, we always made sure to show those children extra love, to not give them time to be too sad when the day came. We’d give them extra treats. We’d give them special tasks. And usually, they brought someone to fill the gap — maybe it wasn’t Dad, but it was an uncle, or a family friend.