Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 60530 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 303(@200wpm)___ 242(@250wpm)___ 202(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60530 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 303(@200wpm)___ 242(@250wpm)___ 202(@300wpm)
“I’ll stand back a bit … I have a little something to do, if you don’t mind. And it’ll let you have a moment with her,” I tell him although it comes out as half a question.
“You’d be okay with that?” Brody arches an eyebrow at me, looking so hopeful it squeezes my heart. “What is it you need to do?”
There is something important I need to do. If there’s anything my life has taught me, it’s not to leave things unresolved with people. That’s a good recipe for losing them entirely.
“I think I have something I have to tell someone,” I say and then close my eyes, hating that for even a second I considered keeping it from Brody. My fingernails dig into my palm and I swallow down the fear of what being honest could do to us. “I want to reach out to—”
“Robert?” he guesses and although there’s a flash of uncertainty in his gaze, when I nod, he nods in return.
“Is it okay?” I ask him.
“Yeah, I get it,” he answers and those nervous butterflies rev up in the pit of my stomach. He doesn’t ask me what I need to say. He doesn’t ask me anything at all.
“It shouldn’t take long. If you’re up for this, I mean. If you’re not—”
“I am.” He cuts me off with a masculine confidence that sends shivers down my spine. Brody pulls back, his face softening. “I mean, I’m more than good. What do you like to do at the playground, Bridget? Swings? Merry-go-round?”
“Swings,” she tells him, abandoning her crayons on the table in front of her. “I want to go on the swings.”
“It’s settled, then.” We make our way out of the restaurant and into the golden afternoon sunlight. It’s one of my most favorite times of day, when there’s still enough daylight left for seemingly infinite possibilities. I pull Bridget in for a hug. “Go to the playground and have fun, okay? I’ll be right there.”
Bridgey squirms out of my arms and goes straight to Brody. He laughs, surprised, but he holds her hand like he’s done it for years. “Tell your mama goodbye.” He can’t wipe the grin off his face when he says the words. His voice brings a new depth to them.
My daughter waves to me and twists in Brody’s grip. “Playground,” she says. “I want to go on the swings.”
“Your wish is my command,” Brody tells her, and he swings her up onto his shoulders. Oh, goodness. Maybe I should buy stock in tissues. I could cry all the happy tears right now.
I watch Brody and Bridget walk away together until they cross the street, and then I pull out my phone. The answer doesn’t take long to come.
Robert’s waiting for me at the corner of the park ten minutes later. He looks put together and professional, the way he always does when he’s working. This is who Robert is. He drops everything to meet me whenever I ask him.
“Hey, Mags.” He greets me with his hands in his pockets, a nervous look in his gaze. “I’m surprised you wanted to talk.”
“I couldn’t leave things with you the way we left them the other night. Not after everything we’ve shared.”
Cool breezes move under the canopy of leaves that haven’t already started to turn to shades of auburn, surrounding us like an old friend. We’ve stood here so many times before. “I wanted to say—”
Robert cuts me off with a wave of his hand. “Let me go first. There’s—there’s something I need to get off my chest.”
Emotions threaten to overwhelm me again, bumping together until they’re tough to name. Fear at what he might say. Sorrow that it didn’t work between us after all. I’m grateful we’re having this conversation. I’m relieved and nervous all at once.
“I didn’t want to break up with you.” Robert looks me square in the eye.
“What?” I can’t disguise the surprise in my tone.
He continues. “Back then, when it all …”
I try to stop him, his name a plea on my lips, but he says, “Please, I just have to tell you.”
With a nod of understanding, I let him get out what he wants, and then I’ll get out what I need to.
“It was my father’s idea. He stood over me while I was on the phone with you to make sure I didn’t back out. And Mags, I shouldn’t have. I should have told you beforehand that it wasn’t me, and I didn’t want it.”
My throat goes so tight it aches, remembering how it felt to have that call years ago but I swallow down the urge to become emotional. I’ve had enough of that already.
“I’m not sure what I should say.” Comforting him still feels like the right thing to do, but I’m not sure if I’m the right person to do it.