Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 108362 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 542(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108362 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 542(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
This was the street I grew up on, and the house where I lived out my lonely existence as the only child of two workaholic lawyers was right next door. A nice family lived there now, the haphazardly strewn kids’ bikes and blooming wildflower beds out front belied a far warmer atmosphere than the one I’d grown up in.
No, all my happy memories had happened right here in the Fields’ house, where my eight-year-old daughter Zara’s grandparents, Jay and Matilda, lived.
Zara was the reason I could never hate my ex-husband, the world famous front man and lead guitarist of Astro, Jace Fields. He gave me my little girl, so even though our marriage had gone up in flames, I didn’t hold any resentment, not anymore.
It hadn’t always been this way. When we’d divorced, I was lost, feeling like I’d given up, abandoned my marriage when perhaps it could’ve been saved if I’d just persevered. If I’d held on that little bit longer. Jace had struggled with a drug addiction for years, and though I’d tried to stand by him and help him get better, it hadn’t worked out. He hadn’t been ready to get clean, and ending the marriage had been my decision. The most difficult choice I’d ever had to make. At the time, I’d been lost in heartbreak, feeling like I’d never be whole again. Not only did I feel like I was losing my husband, I also felt like I was losing a family because Jace’s parents and sister had been far more loving to me than my own family had ever been.
Thankfully, as time wore on, and with a lot of therapy to sort through my anger, sadness and despair, I began to heal. Jace’s family didn’t go anywhere. They were still a huge and supportive part of mine and Zara’s lives. And Jace had eventually gotten clean. Maybe two years too late to save our marriage, but still, it meant he could now be a father to our daughter in all the ways that mattered.
Despite the pain he’d put me through, there was a part of me that would always love him. He was just that sort of person. Even when he broke your heart, he could be devastatingly charming about it.
Well, it was no surprise given his who his father was. Jay Fields, a world renowned illusionist who’d spent his life wowing audiences across the globe, was well-known for his charismatic personality and was just as famous as his rockstar son. So my ex had inherited his charisma from his dad and his sweet side from his mother. It was the reason I’d fallen for him as a starry-eyed teenager, thus resulting in me getting pregnant at the tender age of eighteen. We’d married soon after Zara was born and were together for four years before everything fell apart.
Now, at twenty-seven, I just wanted to co-parent in as easy-going and drama free of an environment as possible. The first two years after the divorce were rocky, but everything had smoothed itself out after that, mostly because Jace had gone into rehab. I hadn’t laid eyes on him in person in over a year since he’d been touring for most of that time. His mother typically collected Zara to bring her to see her dad, sometimes flying her to foreign countries to spend time with him on his days off, and returned her home afterwards. This way, there was no need for Jace and me to interact, and that was better all round.
Matilda knew how hurt I’d been by Jace’s drug use, so she went out of her way to make things easier for me. She was a saint, really. I wasn’t sure we’d be able to coordinate with Jace’s hectic schedule if it weren’t for his parents helping out. And Zara was always so excited to see her dad, even though I sometimes got the sense that it made her sad not to have him around all the time.
“Did you make sure to tell them it starts at seven?” Zara asked as we stepped up to her grandparents’ front door. She was a bundle of nerves because her choir was performing a concert at her school, and she had a small solo. I was so proud of her. She’d had to audition against several other kids to get the part. It appeared she’d inherited her singing voice from her dad because I’d never been able to hold a tune.
“Yes, I told them,” I said, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. She looked so cute in her black and grey uniform, her hair in a French plait that I’d carefully styled.
Reaching out, I pressed the doorbell, expecting either Jay or Matilda to answer. Turning to Zara, I bent down to tuck a stray golden brown curl away from her face just as the door opened, and her eyes widened in delight.