Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 89503 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89503 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
“Dad.” He mocks before sighing. “This makes no sense. Who cares if you can simplify it? It’s the same thing. I think.” His forehead hits the table in frustration. “I hate this.”
I check on the garlic bread in the oven and then make my way back to the table. Gus hasn’t moved. He definitely hasn’t attempted the problem again.
My spirits sink as I imagine doing this every night all summer. I’d rather sit in the saunas with the forwards at the facility. It’s sad to say, but listening to them moan about their bruises and rip farts while sitting in a small room sounds more fun than fighting with Gus over fractions.
God, help me. I don’t know how Deidre does this for days on end.
I take a deep breath, ready to start again, because we have to at least get one page done before we quit. But before I can speak, the doorbell rings through the house.
Gus wastes no time springing to his feet. “I’ll get it.”
My eyes close as I plead with the pain flirting with my eyes to go away. A migraine isn’t going to help anything.
“You’re my guardian angel,” Gus says, the words causing my eyes to fling open again.
Who’s he talking to? I sit up straight as footsteps grow closer. “Gus?”
“Hey, Dad,” he says, mischief in his tone. “Look who’s here.”
Rounding the corner beside my son is Markie, and I’m pretty sure my jaw smashes against the table.
She pauses in the doorway with a smug smile painted on her lips. A pair of tight gray shorts hug her thick thighs, while a Tennessee Arrows tank top showcases her tits. Her hair is messy like she just crawled out of bed, and I’m not sure I’ve ever seen anything sexier in my fucking life.
“Hey,” she says, grinning.
“Hey.” I hope it doesn’t sound as tight as I feel. My hand goes between my legs to adjust myself under the table. “What’s going on?”
She drops a key onto the table. “Miles asked me to bring this to you. It’s for the mechanical room.”
Mechanical room? Oh, right. “Thanks. I didn’t realize you had it.”
“Yeah, well, consider me my brother’s unpaid and underappreciated rental manager. The former tenant left everything in a very tidy binder. So if you need anything else, I probably have it,” she says, her gaze dropping to my lips for a split second.
I smirk. “Then I should totally take your number.”
Gus’s hands clasp together at his chest, and he looks toward the ceiling. “Thank you for listening, God.”
Markie and I laugh as I stand.
“Gus … enough,” I say, motioning toward the papers. “Sit down and get back to work.”
He plops down into his chair. “I don’t understand. You can tell me to sit and to get to work, but I can’t work if I don’t know how.”
“Yes, you do,” I say, my jaw growing tight. “Start with two. Start with nine, if you want. Just start somewhere and if that doesn’t work, go to the next number.”
“But how do I know what number to start with? Or is this a wild goose chase?”
I narrow my gaze. “Pick a number, Gus.”
“That’s not how this works.”
“Whoa,” Markie says, laughing. “You,” she says, pointing at me, “aren’t helping.”
Gus beams at her. “Thanks, buddy.”
“And you,” she says, shaking her head. “You aren’t trying.”
“How do you know?” Gus asks, lifting a brow.
“Because I’ve seen you in action. You’re a smart kid.” She leans over his shoulder. “Let me see the problem.”
I throw up my hands as the oven timer goes off. “You don’t know what you’re getting into.”
“Simplify eighteen twenty-fourths,” Markie says as I take the bread out of the oven. “You can do this.” She flips the paper upside down. “Forget the fraction for a second. Draw me a cheese pizza instead.”
I glance at her over my shoulder, but she’s focused on my son. The sight of them together pulls at my chest. It’s such an ordinary moment, one that families have all over the world in the evening … and that’s exactly why it’s so extraordinary.
Rugby has been my entire life, and I hadn’t given a ton of thought to what I wanted for myself after I retired. Then Gus came into my life. But I’m still getting used to that—still trying to wrap my head around what my world looks like in another year. I haven’t even gotten around to imagining him at the table with a woman while dinner’s being served.
It’s a mindfuck for sure.
“Have you had dinner?” I ask.
“What?” She looks up, her doe eyes wide. “Me? No. I’ve been playing pickleball.”
“Hungry?”
Gus bumps her with his shoulder. “Please, say yes. Don’t leave me here alone with him and fractions.”
A laugh topples from her lips. “I don’t want to intrude.”
“Grab a seat, and I’ll fix you a plate,” I say. “I’ll even make dessert if you can figure out how to get him to understand this shit.”