Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 141425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 707(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 707(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
She knows what Art Deco is? But kids today know all sorts of things.
“Yeah, it kind of does,” I say. “Like one of those fancy apartment buildings.”
“Exactly! Like on Nobody Does It Better,” she says, naming a TV show that takes place in, you guessed it, Los Angeles. “Oh, and next time, you can just come to the pickup line.”
My stomach twists, and a voice in my head says you made another mistake already? But since that sounds a lot like my father’s voice, I do my best to silence it, reminding myself I made it here on time and I picked up the kids. “Thank you. I’ll do that. Parker already told me not to come in, but for now, my car is parked.”
As we walk, Luna chatters about her day. Meanwhile, Parker stops dead in his tracks and asks, “Your car is there? Why did you park there?”
“Because I wanted to meet you at school,” I reply.
“But you didn’t need to pay twenty dollars. We could’ve found your car. We’re not stupid,” he snaps.
Wow. Someone is definitely not a fan of me.
“I wasn’t sure if I’d make it on time,” I say, my voice firm. Then, because I don’t want him thinking he’s in charge, I add, “But I don’t think you’re stupid, and I don’t want you speaking to me that way.”
He gulps but doesn’t say anything.
Maybe it’s a small victory, but I’ll take it as we climb into the car and head to the grocery store, where I park in the small underground lot, with or without Parker’s approval.
But the détente only lasts as long as the produce aisle. As Luna tells me about a science homework project she’s absolutely dreading while I pick out a few avocados, Parker interrupts.
“Can’t we get something good?” he asks.
“What would be good to you?” I reply cheerily, perhaps to cover up my faux pas. For all my famous preparation, I didn’t even ask Tyler about Luna’s and Parker’s likes and dislikes. I was too distracted by the brush of their dad’s strong arm against mine. I’ll do better tomorrow.
“They have gummy bears. Organic,” Parker says, and there’s a hopeful note in his voice.
But there’s also something else—a clever edge. Something that tells me maybe he doesn’t usually get gummies. I hesitate as I push the cart toward the bananas. “Are you allowed to?”
“Agatha always got them for us,” he says, but this time he’s not the sullen, snarky kid of the last half an hour. His voice nearly wobbles when he mentions her name. He must miss her. I bet he feels like I’m stepping on her toes. I should get him the gummy bears—sometimes you just need gummy bears.
I grab the bananas and say, “Let’s check them out.”
When we get to the aisle with the treats, I pick up a bag and glance at the ingredients under the fluorescent lights. Half of them are unpronounceable. Would Tyler want me to get this for Parker?
“I’m pretty sure this is ultra-processed,” I say, a little worried.
Parker furrows his brow. “What is that?”
I quickly explain, trying to keep it light, but his reaction is instant. Parker crosses his arms. “Agatha let us get it,” he says, his tone defiant.
My stomach twists into knots. Tyler said he’s not into ultra-processed food, but maybe he allows exceptions? But if he does, am I supposed to be exercising those exceptions on day one? I replay our conversation in the kitchen, but mostly we just talked about hard-to-spell words. Crap. I didn’t ask about sugar and snacks, and gummy bears definitely have sugar. I don’t truly know if he has strict rules for his kids about food, or flexible guidelines. I don’t want to be the nanny who trounces willy-nilly on his home life.
I also want to stay firm so the kids know to listen to me.
Feeling a little torn, I make a game-day decision. “Tell you what,” I finally say, “I’ll buy it for now, but we’re going to need to check with your dad before you eat them.”
Parker stares at me. “Agatha let me eat them.”
Luna rolls her eyes. “Dude, Agatha’s not here.”
He glares at her. “Yeah. I know.”
“Maybe stop obsessing over her.”
“I’m not obsessing.”
“You kind of are,” Luna says, flicking her ponytail, like she’s had enough of this conversation.
I have to side with him on this—it’s not obsession. “I think he misses her, Luna,” I say, cutting in to come to his defense. I’ll have to talk to Tyler and ask him how to handle this sensitive area.
But Parker scoffs. “I don’t. Mom lets me have them too.”
Ouch. There’s nothing much I can say on that topic. Their mom is in their life, and I don’t want to step on her toes.
“Let’s move on,” I say firmly, since now’s not the time to dive into a tough talk. Instead, I set the bag in the basket and head down the aisle. It hits me then: it’s my first day at work. I’ve barely been on the job an hour, and here I am, breaking up an argument in the middle of the grocery store.