Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 89224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Before I act on that instinct—something I would have done without thinking had I picked her up at her place—I open the door more and step back, moving my gaze up to hers. “You look beautiful.”
At my statement, her step falters, and a hint of pink touches her cheeks. “Thanks, you too. Obviously, I mean you look handsome.”
“Thanks.” I laugh, and her shoulders relax, a small smile curving her lips.
Stepping farther into the room, she looks around. “Where’s Winter?”
“In her bathroom.”
“Is she okay?” The question is whispered, concern laces her tone.
“She’s worried you’re going to be mad, and even more worried that her mom will be.”
“Why would I be mad at her?” She frowns up at me.
“Probably because you did her hair this afternoon, then she chopped it off.”
“Is it bad?”
“It’s not good.” We walk through Winter’s bedroom and stop at the bathroom door. The moment Winter sees Emma, her face crumples.
“Hey, no crying,” Emma says quietly, walking to her and wrapping her in a hug. “You actually did a pretty good job.” She smooths her hand over her hair. “I wish I had photos of the first haircut I gave myself. It was horrible.”
“You cut your hair when you were little?” Winter asks, looking up at her with tears swimming in her eyes.
“I did.”
“Did you get in trouble?”
“Oh yeah. My dad grounded me for a week!” she says, and Winter’s eyes come to me.
“We’ll talk about that later,” I tell her, and her shoulders slump. Just as much as I hate her tears, I hate when I have to dole out some kind of consequence when she’s done something wrong. But I know it’s important in the long run to learn those lessons early.
“We’ll get you fixed up, okay?” Emma asks, and Winter nods. “Where would be the best place to set up shop?” Emma looks at me.
I look around, seeing the bathroom is still a little messy, and I’d rather not clean up more than I have to. “In here. Do you want a chair?”
“One of the stools from the island would be perfect.”
“Be right back.” I leave them and go to the kitchen, and when I get back a few minutes later, Winter is standing on her sink step with Emma behind her. The two of them are talking quietly as they look at her hair.
“Thanks.” Emma glances over at me as I place the stool in the middle of the room, and Winter gets down from her step and climbs up onto the seat while Emma opens the bag she brought with her. “Oh, crap.”
“Bad word coin,” Winter says, and Emma looks at her.
“Is that really a bad word?”
“I think so.” She shrugs, and Emma smiles, then looks at me.
“Do you have a shirt or something I can put on over my dress? I forgot my apron.”
“Yeah, give me a second.” I leave the two of them in the bathroom and head to my room, dialing the number for the restaurant we’re supposed to be at in thirty minutes. While I explain the situation to the hostess who answers, I grab a plaid shirt from my closet for Emma, then head back to the girls while the hostess puts me on hold so she can see if there’s another time slot she can give us.
Passing Emma the shirt, I stand back and watch her put it on. It’s longer than her dress, and I like it more than I should that she’s wrapped up in something of mine. When the hostess comes back on the line, she informs me they have no spots available, so unless we’re going to be there when originally planned, there’s nothing they can do. Since there’s no way we’ll be able to make it in time, I cancel with her and hang up.
“We’re going to have to find another restaurant,” I tell Emma, and she stops spraying water on Winter’s hair and looks back at me.
“That’s okay. Do you have somewhere else in mind?”
“Not anywhere we won’t need a reservation for, and it’s probably too late to get one now.”
Her nose scrunches.
“You can have pizza with me and Kingston,” Winter says, and Emma raises a brow in my direction at the suggestion.
Not fucking happening. Not that I don’t love spending time with my daughter and family, but I want some time alone with her.
“Thanks, Win, but Uncle Tucker and Miranda only got enough stuff for the four of you,” I lie, knowing Miranda probably bought enough to feed a football team. “Are you good here?” I ask Emma.
“Oh, yeah, this shouldn’t take long.”
“I’m going to make some calls and see if I can find another restaurant taking reservations.”
“Sounds good.” She shoots me a smile before I leave the bathroom.
I call Tucker to fill him in, and he lets me know they haven’t started making pizzas yet and that they will wait for Winter, so she doesn’t miss out. And after I hang up with him, I call around to a few restaurants, but like I assumed, they are all booked, with the wait time over an hour long at each one. So, unless Emma has another suggestion, it looks like it’s going to be a night in with takeout.