Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 110360 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 552(@200wpm)___ 441(@250wpm)___ 368(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 110360 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 552(@200wpm)___ 441(@250wpm)___ 368(@300wpm)
“No, it’s great. Seriously, use that diva energy and crawl your ass out of bed. You can’t wallow forever.”
“Says who?”
“Me and…” There was a rustling on the other end of the line as she switched to speakerphone, and I braced knowing she was about to use her forever ace in the hole.
“Hey, Tofton,” Zoey chirped distantly.
My chest warmed. “Hey, baby. Whatcha doing?”
“Playing with my ponies.”
“You brought Snickers into the house?”
She giggled. “No. My toy ponies.”
“Ah, gotcha. Much safer and less poop.”
“Get this, Zoe,” Brooke said. “Lofton hasn’t gotten out of bed in three days. She hasn’t showered or anything. I bet she has potatoes growing in her ears.”
“Yuck!” Zoey cried.
I played along. “I’ll have you know, there was only one potato, and I ate it for dinner last night. Pretty tasty, actually.”
“Ewwwwwww!” Zoey exclaimed before bursting into a fit of laughter.
Being raised in a world of fashion and glamour, she was pure princess, but at four years old, the gross stuff was always a hit. For several seconds, I drank in the sounds of her happiness, grateful beyond belief that things hadn’t been worse. If anything had happened to her…
Nope. I couldn’t go there.
We’d dodged the worst, even Marty, God bless his soul, would have agreed.
“I don’t have any clothes.” I blurted out to escape the spiral of emotions. I was still wearing the oversized black sweatpants and hoodie I’d been given when we left the hotel. They were comfortable, but based on smell alone, I had overstayed my welcome.
“What are you talking about? I packed your bag myself when that Johnson guy took me to get our stuff from your place. Which, by the way, do you think he’s single?”
“I have no idea. Please tell me you didn’t hit on him.”
Zoey giggled. “Mommy doesn’t hit!”
“No,” Brooke replied. “Mommy only uses gentle hands, especially with tall, dark, and tattooed men.”
I shook my head, but a smile tugged at the corners of my lips. “If I agree to take a shower, can I go now?”
“That depends. Are you going to get back into bed as soon as you get out?”
I considered it for a moment. It was a really comfortable bed, but I couldn’t hide forever. My stomach growled in agreement.
Devon had been leaving meals on my nightstand—morning, noon, and night. But short of a few crackers, croutons, and water required for survival, I had no appetite, and the energy level to prove it.
I flipped on the sand dollar-shaped lamp and winced as the light felt like daggers in my eyes. I guessed that was what you got for holing up in a dark bedroom for days at a time. Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I forced myself to my feet. My stiff body screamed its objections, and my head pounded, but I was upright. That had to count for something.
“Fine. I’m up. And I’m not getting back in bed for at least a few hours. Are you happy now?”
“Ecstatic,” she replied. “Tell Lofton bye.”
“Bye, Tofton! I love you.”
“Love you too, baby. Brooke, can you take me off speaker for a minute?”
“Yep.” There was some movement on her end, then the phone fell quiet. “What’s up?”
“How’s she doing?” I asked, fearful of the answer.
“Honestly? A lot better than I was expecting. We’ve been staying up late watching cartoons until we both fall asleep, and then she farts under the covers and kicks me in the face all night.”
Zoey let out a loud laugh, not even bothering to deny it.
God, I missed them.
“Good.” I breathed. “We need to get her set up with therapy or whatever they do for kids her age. Just because she’s compartmentalizing it now doesn’t mean it won’t sneak up on her later. Actually, book someone for yourself too.”
“And what about you? Are you finally going to talk to someone? Or are you just going to throw yourself into work like you did when your mom passed away, or when Sebastian cheated on you, or when he released your text messages, or when your dad—”
“Okay, okay. Stop. Yes, I’ll talk to someone too.” I paused before adding, “Eventually.”
“Always with the eventually,” she grumbled.
“I mean it this time.”
Clearly unconvinced, she muttered, “You always do.”
“Give my girl a kiss for me. Love you.”
“Love you too.”
I was already halfway to the bathroom when I hit the end button and tucked my phone into the front pocket of the hoodie. In hindsight, it was a wise choice to secure my phone, because I got the jump scare of a lifetime when I caught sight of myself in the mirror.
Dear Lord, I looked like I’d survived a tornado.
No. Strike that. I’d survived a tornado mixed with a hurricane, before being swallowed by an earthquake, only to be shot back out through an erupting volcano. Slight exaggeration, but seriously, only very slight.