Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 136559 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 683(@200wpm)___ 546(@250wpm)___ 455(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136559 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 683(@200wpm)___ 546(@250wpm)___ 455(@300wpm)
She did launch the handbag line with the money she protected in the prenup, and she’s still running the wildly successful Simply Grace. But Michael, the guy she cheated on Dad with? Pretty sure he’s been out of the picture for a long time. Well, she always loved accessories more than anything so I suppose her exit strategy worked out for her. It also taught me a valuable lesson—it’s best if I depend on myself.
I focus on the most important people in my life—my father and little sister. Dad, however, is already focused on me. “So, what’s on tap for today, Leighton?”
“I’m assisting a fashion photographer,” I say, then tell him about some of the work I’m doing with a local designer. “And later this week I’m taking some dog pictures for a Bark in the Park event.”
“Nice,” he says, his tone proud. “And you had a shoot yesterday. How’d it go?”
I mentioned it when I last saw him, so it’s only natural he’d ask. Only now, I feel like a complete traitor lying to him, maybe for the first time. “It…sort of fell apart.”
“What happened?” he asks, and I’m sure he’ll be ready to dole out advice, too, on work and how to handle setbacks. Normally, I like his advice. He knows what it takes to collaborate, manage big personalities, and work with a huge team. Obviously.
Think fast.
“The model canceled, and then the client canceled,” I say. Since he’ll never know Miles stepped in, I add, “So it was a bust.”
He sighs. “What did you do instead?”
Got absolutely wrecked on a chaise longue by one of your fifty-goal scorers. The guy you saved after an injury. Filthy mouth. Big heart. Smart too. Basically, a perfect date. “I just shot some self-portraits,” I say, knowing nothing will shut Dad up faster than the thought of me in lingerie. He knows I’ve been playing around with that type of shot, but not that I want to build a business shooting boudoir.
Riley sits up straighter, then nudges me, her gaze drifting pointedly down to her hands. They’re below the table. She signs, What did you wear? Can you take me shopping for something pretty?
I laugh, then say out loud to her, “Anytime.”
Dad clears his throat. “I do know ASL too.”
We all know American Sign Language, even though I don’t need it now—I can hear them all well enough and everyone else—clients, friends, neighbors, strangers. I don’t know if I’ll ever truly have to use it. But my high school offered it, so I took it just in case. Riley and my dad decided to learn it too. Someday I might need or want to use ASL to communicate with them, even though I know I could also use conversational captioning tools on my phone. Either way, the future can barrel down on you. So I choose to be practical.
I turn to Riley, smiling as I say to my father, “You know it, but only if you can see it.”
He rolls his eyes. “That’s just mean.”
I shrug. “You’re a girl dad. We’re going to have secrets from you.”
“Get used to it,” Riley adds.
“Daughters,” he says with an over-the-top sigh then he moves on, turning to Riley. “And you have a chemistry test today.”
“Which she’ll ace,” I add because she’s a genius STEM girl.
“I don’t know about that,” Riley says.
“You kind of ace everything,” I say, grinning.
“You do,” Dad agrees, and when the server returns with his coffee, he thanks him. We chat more, carefully sidestepping any mention of hockey until Dad studies me for a long beat, then says with a chin nod, “Where’d you get that locket? Is it new?”
Oh. Right. I’m still wearing it. I stupidly couldn’t bring myself to take it off. My cheeks flush as the lie slips out. “Oh, this? Just grabbed it at a thrift shop.”
“It’s pretty,” he says.
“Yeah, I might have to steal it sometime,” Riley teases.
I smile, but beneath it, guilt knots in my stomach.
The food arrives a minute later, and I’m grateful for the distraction. Before everyone digs in, I take a picture of Riley and my dad—a candid here at the table. They’re so used to me snagging pics like this that they just keep talking as I frame the shot and snap it. Then, it’s selfie time for all of us. They lean in close and I take the pic. I want to capture all life’s moments, big and small. I want to experience everything, and sometimes that means being able to look back and remember a moment that’s passed you by.
“The camera eats first,” my dad says, faux grumbling.
“And the camera is very hungry,” Riley adds with a huff.
“Please. You both love my pics,” I say. “I’ve seen your smart hubs.”
Riley rolls her eyes but bumps my shoulder—her subtle acknowledgement. As for Dad, I get his acknowledgement nearly every day. I gave them both digital photo frames for Christmas last year and they eagerly display the pics on them that I upload to our family album. And nearly every day my dad takes pics on his phone of the pics the frame scrolls through and texts us notes like “Remember that day?” or “That was fun!”