Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 137131 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 686(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137131 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 686(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
“You bet your ass I will. And your father, Briana. It’s not personal, it’s just what I do.”
She scowls like I just told her to wipe off her makeup, but I don’t give a shit.
That’s what dads are for—to be the stonehearted voice of reason teenagers won’t appreciate until they’re ten years older.
Truth be told, I think I’ll be pissed for a while too, whatever Winnie wants be damned.
If there’s no spouse, then she probably doesn’t have kids.
She doesn’t get what it’s like.
Sure, she might be trying to play it cool, but she called this in. I have no doubt she was freaked in the moment, whatever she thinks now.
And with fireworks popping off next to miles of woods in a midsummer drought, these jokers could’ve ignited an inferno that would’ve needed the National Guard called in to put it out.
Besides, it doesn’t make sense that she’s trying to play it off like nothing happened. She’s the one who made the big deal about it in the first place.
Not to mention the cake, the dress, the nagging mystery of what she’s up to.
Something’s going on back there, no question.
As I drive through the darkness in stony silence, my gut screams that tomorrow won’t be the last time I talk to Winnie.
I should keep an eye on her.
Just in case.
3
NO QUEEN BEE (WINNIE)
Chocolate, the purest way to a woman’s heart.
As a nice bonus, it’s a great pain reliever, too.
I’m talking magic cure-all for being dumped, losing out on your dream job, and yes, even when you flee your own wedding and the raging dumpster fire of insane consequences.
The highest rated bakery in Kansas City is The Sugar Bowl, and by God, it’s good. In the day I’ve been here, after throwing out the remainder of the wedding cake I never want to see again, I’ve eaten my own weight in sugar.
On their website, they offer these fun local packages you can get delivered.
When I saw ‘breakup box,’ I didn’t hesitate.
Because let’s face it, I’ve definitely broken up, and not just with a man.
I’ve broken up with everything: my past, my present, any future I ever imagined.
RIP to the girl I used to be.
The fact that I tried to go along with the wedding at all is proof she was too stupid to live.
Old Winnie, she was optimistic to a fault. She kept thinking maybe, just maybe, this could be the right move because so many other people wanted it.
If only she’d stopped to consider the hard truth.
It wasn’t right because I didn’t want it.
Stupid?
Yes. Fabulously so.
But I guess that’s what you get when you’re raised to make your family proud above all else. And by proud, I mean letting your father marry you off like a prized asset meant to be leveraged.
Gross.
But now I’m free.
And I’ve decided a healthy part of this freedom means devouring three huge chocolate eclairs in one sitting while I work on relinquishing any and all fucks related to pleasing my dad.
The damage is done. There’s no way he’ll be proud of me again.
So, I might as well enjoy the sugar high and the sunshine.
The summer sun certainly warms my back as I wander along the well-tended paths through the garden.
My fingers are already smudged with dirt, but that’s what I get for not finding gloves.
There’s something peaceful about plucking weeds to pass the time, though. There aren’t that many when this place has perfect maintenance, but still.
There are also so many flowers—the bee-friendly kind like lavender—and I kneel down on the path, clearing space around them.
Lazy bees at work drift by, humming gently around me like this sweet lullaby.
I really hope I get that extended stay. If I can’t freeze this moment forever, I’d like to stretch it out a few more days, at least.
Just me and the bees and this sunbathed garden.
Nothing more, nothing less, and no freaking worries.
Maybe someday I can find a more permanent place like this. I’ll stay for the week, the month, a whole year or two.
I’ll slowly become the crazy bee lady I’ve always wanted to be and live my best life.
No more Dad. No more Holden. No more nasty weddings. No more Springfield.
The thought doesn’t make my throat tighten with anxiety anymore.
I guess that’s the power of bees, because if I was cooped up in some hotel room somewhere else, looking out at the city skyline, there’s no way I wouldn’t be sobbing into my wine and pizza.
It’s way too peaceful here for shedding tears.
Sighing, I crouch down to pull out another weed and sit back, looking at my handiwork. A bee lands on the flower I just cleared space around, and I smile.
“Hi, buddy.”
Its little antenna waves as it hunts for pollen, collecting it on its legs like a dusting of gold. Nature is so beautiful it hurts sometimes.