Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 84114 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84114 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
“I’m not sure we’d have enough time for that story,” I mutter, and we continue in silence for another block.
Finally, he claps my shoulder, grip firm. “Don’t give up on Maddie. If she’s scared, there’s always the chance that she’ll confront those fears and come out better on the end.”
That is my hope. “Yeah… I know. I’m not giving up. Just frustrated because I can see this would be so good for both of us.”
I need to figure out how to reassure her. To make her see I’m not going to abandon her. To convince her that I’m the happily ever after she needs.
It’s a lot, but hey, I’ve got nothing but time. Not going anywhere.
Kace checks his watch. “Okay, gotta finish this last mile. Catch you later.”
Then he jogs off into the night, leaving me with the echo of his words and the gut-punch knowledge that I’m not the only one tangled up in the impossible.
CHAPTER 28
Maddie
The kitchen counter looks like a war table. Lists, Post-its, two different colored pens, and the kind of obsessive energy only a first birthday party can stir. Plates, napkins, balloons, a grocery order for a cake big enough to feed an army.
And that’s what it’s starting to feel like—an army.
Because apparently the entire Titans’ organization is coming. Players, wives, girlfriends, kids. A few staff. Brienne Freaking Norcross.
My stomach knots every time I think about it.
It’s not that I don’t want people celebrating Grayce. She deserves every banner, every balloon, every present, every piece of cake she might want to smoosh all over her face.
What scares me is the weight of so many eyes—curious, maybe judgmental, all peering in on the fragile little family Atlas and I have stitched together. It feels like hosting a gala with my whole heart on display. I’d cancel it if I could, but the invitations went out long before Atlas confessed his love and made things so messy.
Back then, we were just co-parents and the idea of a big celebration for Grayce sounded perfect.
Now I’m wondering if I can fake the flu to get out of it.
I tell myself to focus on the practical so I can stop worrying about the impractical. The party is tomorrow, and I have everything in hand. Atlas is in Detroit for game four against the Cardinals and he’ll fly back to Pittsburgh tonight. The Titans lost game three in Detroit, and I know Atlas is under a lot of stress, so I assured him I have everything in hand.
In fact, that’s all we’ve talked about since his big proclamation. We’ve talked only about Grayce and the party and nothing personal. It’s just the facts and there’s no bantering or teasing. I hate it.
Quit thinking about it, I scold myself.
I pull a notebook across the table and check off completed items. Streamers ordered, favors bagged, juice boxes chilled. But the more I add to the lists, the more I feel like I’m trying to control the uncontrollable. Trying to make sure not one thing looks out of place, so no one can see how out of place I sometimes feel.
By ten thirty the house is silent. Grayce is down for a nap and the only sound is the occasional crackle from the monitor. There’s really nothing else I can do until this afternoon when I have to pick up the cake. I’ve finished all my outstanding reports to the other caseworkers back in Chicago and the house is spotless.
I’m restless, too wound up to sit still. I’ve got to occupy my mind or all I’ll do is think about Atlas and how cowardly I’m feeling.
With a sigh, I head into the living room and flop onto the couch. I open my laptop, meaning to check one more detail on the party spreadsheet, and instead my eyes snag on a folder I haven’t touched in weeks.
Gray—Videos.
My chest squeezes. I’d promised myself I’d get them organized, labeled and stored for Grayce to have when she’s older. Gray put so much effort into making an unforgettable library of advice for his little girl and it was perhaps the most loving thing I’ve ever seen a person do.
But every time I’ve tried to look at these, I’ve drowned in grief. Right now though, I need something that isn’t lists and paper plates.
I click the folder.
The files appear, neat little lines marching down the screen.
Grayce_Newborn.
Grayce_6months.
Grayce_FirstLaugh.
Each one a tiny piece of Gray, a person I thought I’d have forever. My throat burns as my eyes rove over the MP4s until my gaze snags on one near the bottom.
Grayce_1stBirthday.
My breath hitches. This is the one Atlas and I will show her tomorrow. After all the party guests are gone, we’ll put her in front of the TV with us, and we’ll have her watch the very first video of her father speaking from beyond the grave.