Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 94639 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94639 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
“He’s an idiot,” Simon says. “I’ve seen it a lot during my years working at the hospital and clinic. Doctors want to move up, so they make the hospital their home and become married to their work. If it wasn’t for Bridget, I probably would’ve done the same thing.” He pulls Bridget into his side and kisses the side of her temple.
Emotions sting my nostrils at the thought that no matter how hard I tried to make it work with Richard, I was never enough. Our kids aren’t enough. None of his other wives or fiancées are ever enough. Will Samantha be enough? I keep hoping he’ll meet a woman who’ll change him, make him want to be a part of his kids’ lives, but the truth is Richard has to want it himself. Nobody can make you want to be a part of the family you created but you.
“I’ll let you know if Richard can take the kids next weekend,” I say, standing.
“If he can’t, we can take them,” Simon says. “We don’t mind.”
“Thank you. I’ll let you know.”
Me: Where are you?
Me: Richard? Ella’s gymnastics meet is about to start! You better be finding a parking spot.
Me: Damn it, Richard! It’s started.
As I watch my little girl show off her gymnastics skills on the bars, I keep glancing down at my cell phone, hoping Richard will either reply or show up. Several times Ella has glanced around looking for her dad, who promised he would be here.
“He’s not coming,” Hunter says, nodding toward my phone. “He never shows up when we need him to. You can stop texting him. It’s pointless.”
My heart constricts at my son’s words, and for a long moment, I stare at my little boy, who is no longer little. At the end of the summer, he’s going to be turning thirteen years old. He’ll be a teenager. And he’s seeing everything his father is doing. He understands what’s going on, and there’s no more making excuses or hiding it. He gets it.
“I’m sorry,” I tell him, unsure of what else to say. It may not be me who’s bailing on our kids, but I’m their mom. I brought them into this world and it’s my job to make sure they’re loved and taken care of. To shield them from anyone who can hurt them.
“It’s not your fault,” Hunter says. “We’d rather be with you anyway.” He shrugs and goes back to typing on his phone. My heart stills and then speeds up. These are my babies, and I need to do something. We can’t continue this way for the next however many years. Ella is only nine years old. I can’t let Richard string her along, breaking her heart for the next nine plus years.
Me: You failed the kids AGAIN. I’m not going to continue to let you do this to them. If I have to take you to court and get custody of them I will. Starting Monday, if you don’t take them on your scheduled days, I’m going to document it and then hire an attorney to fight you. And since you pay me so much child support and alimony, I can afford it!
Next, I send a text to Simon to let him know I have to cancel the blind date. Tonight, the kids need me. We’re going to go to dinner to celebrate how amazing Ella did and then go see a movie. I send my mom a text, asking if she’d like to join us. Providence is only an hour drive from Boston, but since she met her new husband, David, who treats her like his queen, she’s always traveling.
She texts back they left on a last minute trip to Washington D.C. and promises to come visit soon. I’m too happy that she’s happy to be disappointed. After my dad left her broke, and then a few years later, died of liver failure, I didn’t think I would ever see her happy again. But then she met David and he made it his mission to love her like she deserves.
There’s a knock on the door and I yell to the kids their dad is here. It’s Wednesday night, and he’s actually on time to get them, just like he was on Monday. I guess my text got through to him. Hopefully it lasts. As I’m turning the doorknob to open the door, my toe gets stuck under the rug and I fly forward. The door swings open, and I fall right into Richard. Luckily, he’s quick and catches me, but we both topple to the ground.
“Oh, shit, sorry.” I climb off him. “I tripped.”
“Jesus, Harper.” He stands and runs his hands along the front of his shirt to get any wrinkles out. “You could’ve fucked up my hands. You’re like a walking train wreck.”