Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 81986 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81986 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
“Sam’s plans?” Worth’s forehead crinkled. “Oh yeah. Housing foster teens. That’s…a great idea.”
He managed to sound supportive, but his expression was rather confused and grew more so as Dad continued to enthuse.
“The next step is helping him track down some more furniture, but I love what he’s done with the upstairs rooms so far.”
“I…um…haven’t looked in the upstairs rooms.” Worth’s expression went from confused to distinctly pained.
Eyes wide, Dad blinked several times, then removed his glasses to clean them. “Surely you’re not sleeping on the couch? Sam?”
“Okay. Moving on.” I shepherded the three of us into safer conversational waters, joining a lively group of older women for my mom’s chicken and dumpling lunch. And while the seven-layer bar dessert was worth any awkwardness, I was still plenty relieved when we returned to my house after lunch. No big emergencies at the coffee shop, so the rest of the afternoon stretched tantalizingly in front of us.
However, Worth seemed far more contemplative than seductive, heading right for the stairs after we let Buttercup out.
“Show me the rooms.” Hand on the banister, he turned back toward me, eyes stormy. “I can’t believe I let myself go…what? Two or three weeks now? Just pretending like the second floor doesn’t exist.”
“And that’s fine.” I tried to soothe him with a hand on his back, but he kept marching up the stairs. “You’ll see the rooms when you’re ready, and if that’s not today, that’s totally okay. No pressure.”
“I’m never going to be ready.” His expression was like cardboard, dull and flimsy, one good rainstorm away from collapsing. “But it’s part of your vision for the house like your dad said. You want to fill this place with kids, and that’s not a terrible idea.”
“Ringing endorsement,” I teased, then sobered. As long as I could remember, I’d wanted a large family. Growing up first with a much-older sibling and then as essentially an only child, I’d always known I wanted a partner and a house full of kids. In college, I’d watched a documentary about older kids awaiting adoption and foster placements, and I’d decided then and there that I’d focus on those harder-to-place ages. My work at the coffee house with young adults had only strengthened my desire to provide a home and family for tweens and teens in need. “I really do want kids. I’ve done the classes and required certifications. Made it through the home study a few weeks back. I’ve been working with my caseworker as to whether a group foster home situation, foster-to-adopt placements, or a combination of the two might be best.” I paused, but Worth nodded for me to keep going. “There seems to be some reluctance around me being a single guy, and no placements have been offered yet. However, I could see the possibilities even before I bought the house. I know it’s beyond complicated for you, but my vision of a family is a big part of my dreams for the future.”
And so was Worth, but I didn’t want to add that right then and spook him. But a partner had always been a part of the vision, and while I’d matured, that mythical partner had always looked an awful lot like Worth.
“I like your big dreams,” he said softly. And maybe he couldn’t quite add himself to the equation yet, but that support meant something. “Your kids are going to need their own pew, and I wasn’t kidding about them not staying seated. You’ll have to work on your enforcer voice.”
“I think my stern voice works fine.” Tilting my head, I gave him a long stare until his cheeks turned pink.
“True. And yeah, I’m not ready to see the rooms, but I also need to because this is important to you. So, show me where this soccer team’s worth of teens will live.”
“Okay.” Strangely nervous, belly fluttering, I let him lead the way upstairs. “There were originally four rooms up here. The small guest room will likely eventually be an office for me. And your mom’s sewing room is slated to be a single room.”
I started there, opening the door to the room, which had great natural light thanks to two dormer windows. We’d painted the walls a light purple that had some gray overtones. Neutral but nice next to the white bedframe my mom had picked up bargain shopping. No other furniture yet, other than a small bookcase where Mom had stowed some of her favorite classics.
“I like the wall color,” Worth said softly, pausing by the bookshelf to thumb through a worn copy of Anne of Green Gables. “Mom liked this book too.”
“Good.” I could barely speak, and my hands trembled.
“My room next.” Leaving the sewing room, Worth strode determinedly to the room next door.
“You don’t have to…” I trailed helplessly behind him as he threw open the door to his former room.