Total pages in book: 36
Estimated words: 34149 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 171(@200wpm)___ 137(@250wpm)___ 114(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 34149 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 171(@200wpm)___ 137(@250wpm)___ 114(@300wpm)
“He didn’t come back,” I tell her between hiccupped sobs. “He said he would text and then come back. He said he would always be here when he got off work. He said he would always let me know if he was running late. He didn’t.”
“Deep breaths, honey. Tell me exactly what happened.”
I fill her in on all the details I know, including the fact that I went to his house last night for the weekend, but leaving out the part about having sex with him. When I’m done, she sighs.
“Honey, he’s a detective. He probably got busy. He might be in a dangerous situation tonight that’s preventing him from texting or calling.”
I’m surprised she’s on his side. I thought she would be more skeptical. She only met him the one time a week ago. She knows he’s been over every night this past week, but she hasn’t spoken to him again. We were supposed to go to my parents’ house tomorrow evening for dinner. Now I feel like I’m never going to see him again.
It’s irrational and frustrating. My brain mostly knows that, but I can’t stop myself from feeling like he has gotten tired of me. “I’m a lot of work, Mom. Maybe he decided he doesn’t want to deal with me.”
“Honey, from what you’ve told me, you’ve hardly had any sensitivity issues when you’re with him. Plus, he’s a Daddy, so he isn’t likely to tire of your Little side, Josie.”
“But, Mom, I’m really Little, like all the time. Maybe it’s too much for him. Maybe he wants someone who can be an adult more often and leave the house. Mom! I can’t even leave the apartment.”
“Honey, you left your apartment yesterday. You went to his house.”
“That’s not the same. I can’t go to the movies or to a restaurant or a party.” I cringe at the thought of any of those things.
She calmly responds. “I bet you could do any of those things if he was with you.”
I draw in a breath and keep pacing my apartment. I’ve been pacing for hours. She’s probably right. The image of the red, fire-breathing dragon comes to mind. I could even do that. I bet if my Daddy held my hand, I could even go to the theater, as long as it didn’t have red seats and we didn’t get red vines. Popcorn sometimes makes me nervous, but it’s not as loud as chips.
“Josie, you’re letting your imagination get away from you, honey. He has only been gone ten hours. He’s at work. Or maybe he got off recently, and now he’s at home because he thought you would already be in bed asleep and he didn’t want to wake you because he assumed you would be asleep.”
I keep sniffling.
“Honey, I think you should do exactly that. Get in bed. I bet he’ll call you first thing in the morning.”
“I don’t want him to call me in the morning, Mom. I want him to call me now,” I whine.
“Well, you’re going to need to dig into your adult side and think more rationally. I know you love this man, Josie. It’s obvious. And I bet he loves you too. You’re going to have to find a way to trust him. When he can’t call you, it doesn’t mean he doesn’t love you. It means he’s tied up with work.”
I nod even though she can’t see me. Rationally, I know she’s right. But I’m sad and scared. My Little is very nervous. My adult is in a panic.
Suddenly, there’s a knock at the door, and I gasp. I rush over and look through the peephole. “Mom, he’s here,” I whisper before I hang up and set the phone down.
I throw the door open, swiping at the tears on my face. I’m a mess. My pigtails have almost fallen completely out. My dress is wrinkly from napping in it and balling the front up in my fists.
“Princess…” He comes into my apartment, shuts the door, and pulls me into his arms. “I’m so sorry.”
I start crying again. I can’t stop it. I want to be stronger than I feel, but I’m not.
“Baby girl…” he picks me up and carries me to the armchair where he sits with me in his lap. He cups my face. His brow is furrowed. “Have you been crying all day?”
I swallow, not wanting to admit such a thing, but he can tell. My face is puffy and red. I’ve cried so many times there are tear tracks on my cheeks. And my hair. Jeez.
“I scared you, didn’t I, princess?” He rubs my back.
I nod.
He holds me, rocking me, rubbing my back, kissing my neck until I start to breathe regularly.
“Are you mad at me, Daddy?” I finally call him Daddy.
“No, Baby girl.” He brushes my hair back. “Not at all.”