Total pages in book: 43
Estimated words: 41935 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 210(@200wpm)___ 168(@250wpm)___ 140(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 41935 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 210(@200wpm)___ 168(@250wpm)___ 140(@300wpm)
After putting on my robe, I get my bathroom caddy and go to the bathroom. Every morning I came here after a night with Dalton, I’d grin at myself in the mirror, blissed out and a little stunned that this was happening to me and not Farrah.
Every second was incredible, and I’ll never forget it. But it can’t continue. I have to put my parents first.
I take a deep breath and look at my reflection in the mirror, my hands braced on the sink in front of me. It won’t be easy to see Dalton at sunrise yoga in a few minutes. In fact, every time I see him for the remainder of the filming will be hard.
But it’s better than how hard it would be to tell my parents I can’t pay for Dad’s extra therapies anymore. Better than them worrying about losing their home.
It’s a choose your hard situation, and I won’t be able to live with myself if I don’t make the right choice.
I dress in black shorts and a plain gray T-shirt, then slide on my sandals, grab my phone and head toward the kitchen. When I walk through the door that leads from the staff hallway to the kitchen, I see Dalton.
He’s leaning against the counter, a stainless water bottle raised to his mouth. His expression changes when he sees me, his intense gaze brushing over me like a soft caress.
“Morning,” he says softly.
“Good morning.”
My heart races as I walk over to one of the wide stainless refrigerators and take out two glass bottles of water. Just water for me and lavender lemon for Farrah.
I glance over at Dalton, my stomach flipping over the way he’s looking at me. A mix of hunger and uncertainty swirls in his eyes. I want to run to him, throw myself in his arms and press every inch of my body against his solid warmth.
We just look at each other for a few seconds, neither of us speaking. The spell is broken when my phone buzzes with an incoming text.
Farrah’s probably wondering where I’m at. I pick up my phone and read the message, my heart pounding harder with each word.
Mom: Dad and I are going to the hospital in an ambulance. The paramedics said he may have had another stroke or a seizure. I’ll text as soon as I know something. Love you.
“No,” I whisper, tears filling my eyes.
This is the cost of making enough money to help my parents. My dad, whose condition is already fragile, is on his way to the hospital, and I’m at a beach house in Malibu, completely helpless.
“What is it?” Dalton strides over to me and takes my hand.
“My dad.” I blink and the clouds clear from my vision as tears drop onto my cheeks. “My mom called an ambulance. They think he had another stroke or a seizure.”
“Babe.” His voice is soft and he gently squeezes my hand. “What can I do for you?”
My lips part and I shake my head, at a loss for words. But then, clarity comes.
“I’m going there. I need to be with my dad.”
He nods. “You want me to tell Farrah?”
My exhale is heavy. She’s not going to take this well. But I don’t care. I’m not asking her permission.
“I’ll do it, but thanks.”
“Want me to go throw some stuff in a bag for you?”
“It’s okay. I’m just going to take my bag and my phone. God, I hope I can get a flight there today.”
“You will.” He gives my hand a reassuring squeeze.
“Okay.” I take a steadying breath. “Let’s get this over.”
Dalton follows me to the usual yoga spot on the beach. As usual, Farrah is the first one there.
“It’s cold this morning,” she says in greeting. “Will you go grab me a hoodie?”
“I have to go.” I blurt it out, my stomach churning with worry.
“Go where?” She pinches her brows together, confused.
“Home. To Michigan. My dad is on the way to the hospital in an ambulance.”
Her expression morphs from confused to dismissive. “It’ll take you all day to get there. And you won’t be able to have your phone on in the air. You can call and check in on him from here.”
“No, I’m going.”
She scoffs. “I get that it’s upsetting, but is he dying or something? It might be nothing.”
I’ve never told Farrah about my family. Mostly because she’s never asked, but also because she had a sad childhood. Her father died when she was three and the man her mom remarried was an abusive alcoholic. Despite Farrah breezily telling everyone that she loves going back to Pella, Iowa, for the tulip festival, she never goes home. She hates her mother for what she was put through, and even without knowing the specifics, I understand why.
“Your schedule is on my laptop. Same password I use for everything.”