Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 88220 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88220 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
6: The Tiny Dancer
Beau/Dash/Beau
Beau
October 2019
Saturday
“There’s no world in which they’re going to eat that,” Dash scoffed at the double pack of frozen veggie crumbles I tossed in the cart. But I was on a mission.
We had thirty minutes before Livie’s dance class let out. I continued to scan the frozen food behind the glass doors, looking for healthy alternatives to fill our freezers. Amelia and I worked in tandem to instill healthy eating habits in our children. Veggie crumbles presented as taco and spaghetti meat… Oh yeah, veggie burgers and hot dogs. I grabbed a large box of each.
“They’ve figured out those aren’t real hot dogs.”
“No, they haven’t,” I shot back, rolling my eyes, refusing to give him my attention. They loved ketchup and that masked everything. I glanced over my shoulder to say just that, but I was struck speechless. I turned to stare as my husband let our baby son, West, lick on his ice cream cone.
I shifted my hopefully accusatory gaze from West’s mouth to Dash’s grin.
“He likes it.”
Of course he liked it. The ice cream was pure sugar and tons of chemicals created with the sole purpose of making you like it. Just put his one foot in the grave. Luckily, the immense explosion happening in my head didn’t include me slapping the cone from his hand. Before the kids came on our scene, we studied every parenting 101 book and course we could find. Every one of the experts agreed on the importance of teaching children how to eat properly and exercise regularly from an early age. Then literally, since they had arrived, Dash had turned into a sloth. The only time he hurried was running to the freezer for whatever processed treat he wanted next.
“What’re you doin’?” I asked. Dash finally realized that we weren’t all having a grand time. His gaze lifted to mine. I could see the gears turning, connecting the dots.
“You’re mad.”
No shit.
“I know we agreed, but theory and practicality don’t always intermingle in the real world. Good food’s a joy. I want them to have a balanced life, Beau.”
The pads of my fingers smashed to my eyes as I wrestled for control. Those decisions weren’t his alone to make.
“Dash, we made a commitment to each other to do our best by them. That ice cream’s full of additives and chemicals. They want you to be addicted. At the very least, give them real food. Make homemade ice cream as a treat. Maybe we could do that tonight to celebrate Liv’s first class.”
“What time is it?” Dash asked, ignoring me. He and I both set alarms before entering HEB so we wouldn’t be late for Livie. We were on a tight schedule over the next two days until I left for the Himalayas. I was in full-on mission mode, determined to make life a little easier for Dash and Amelia while I was gone.
As I stared at him, he lifted the cone, taking a long lick in a circular motion to prevent a sticky meltdown on his fingers.
My dick turned hard in seconds.
“You just did that to try and avert my attention,” I accused irrationally. Wait. “Did you send me on this trip to get me out of town?” Anger and arousal created chaos in a person.
Dash let out a hearty burst of laughter that echoed down the aisle. If the previous argument hadn’t drawn all the stares, Dash’s eruption did the trick. He maneuvered the cart with his elbows. West’s mouth was wide open for another bite.
I hesitated for a moment but eventually followed as he wheeled the cart to the automatic sliding doors in the front of the store. He didn’t glance back at me or utter a single word while unhooking all the straps to West’s seat device and lifted it and him out of the cart. The cone flew to the trash, the groceries left in the cart, and he started toward the parking lot, signaling that he intended to finish the conversation in the privacy of our vehicle. His long stride ate up the parking lot.
Fuck it, I was ready for the fight. I wasn’t the one in the wrong. I spent the majority of my life following the instructions of all the experts, which included Dash. I mean a ridiculous amount of time trying to give my best to those I loved. Life would be a breeze if I plopped a Happy Meal on the table every night, but we chose a different way. We made a pact. He needed to do his share.
Dash
My quick hustle out of the store slowed on the approach to the Tahoe, taking plenty of time to buckle my little guy into his high-tech seat. Then I used several wipes to clean the muck off his face and hands as well as my own. The entire time I worked, I took deep centering breaths, holding them for several seconds, hoping my irritation dispelled on the exhale. It didn’t, even with Beau’s hard body looming by the passenger door, waiting for me to finish.