Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 57043 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 285(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57043 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 285(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
“I love road trips.” My mom turns her attention back to Brody, which is the second time he's saved my ass during this conversation. “Have you thought about going out west? I have a book of the best national parks to stop at. It's a little outdated, but I can't imagine the parks have changed much.”
“Isn't the point of the parks to stay the same?”
“I guess so,” my mom says, laughing. “I visited Yellowstone—oh, what was it, fifteen years ago now? Twenty? You think a picture does it justice, but when you see it with your own eyes, it's something else.”
You know who's something else? Renee. I wouldn't mind a trip to Yellowstone, or any of the national parks, but I can't think of anything more stunning than her face.
And then my mind is off and running, thinking about Renee in the passenger seat of my car, her hair blowing around her face and big sunglasses on, the two of us speeding down the highway for a real low-key getaway. No babies, no work responsibilities, just the two of us escaping for a while.
None of it makes that much sense because Brody's the one who's into backpacking and camping and spending time in the wilderness, but I could be into backpacking if Renee was.
Is she into backpacking?
There's never been a reason to talk about what vacation we'd take if we had a tank full of gas, a couple weeks off work, and no business to take care of, because I've never asked her about her vacation plans. Renee's focused on working when she's at work, as she should be, and I'm focused on not getting caught staring at her as much as I can. That's probably the type of flirty conversation I shouldn't even imagine having with her.
I let out a groan and rub my hands over my face.
“You all right?” Brody asks, looking concerned.
“Yeah.” I drop my hands to the table. “Just remembered a couple, uh, bills I have to pay. And I have to buy stamps.”
My mom and Brody both look at me like I've said something they can't understand. Most bills you can pay online now, and you don't need stamps, so that's probably it. I'll double down on it if I have to, because we are not going to discuss my crush on Renee or the fantasy road trip I just spent several minutes picturing.
“Griffin—” my mom starts.
“Who's hungry?” Mary Sue appears at the side of the table with a big tray balanced on her palm.
“I am,” I tell her, and lean back in my seat to make room for the food. My mom exclaims over everything, and Brody compliments her choice of order. I stay quiet to keep myself out of trouble.
Because the most honest thing I could say is that the food looks great, it always does, but what I'm really hungry for is Renee…and I’m pretty sure everyone knows it. Including her.
Renee
“Do you think you'll have a baby sprinkle, then?” I turn the corner at the largest baby store for miles around, which happens to be in the next town over, and glance at my best friend Mags. She's walking slow at my side, and I pace myself so she doesn't feel rushed. She’s round and every few minutes her eyes close like she’s struggling to stay on her feet. The baby has dropped, and I don’t think Mags is going to make it to the new year.
Mags is due in the next month, which is pretty much any day in terms of being pregnant. She takes every step like she's really thinking about it and rests both hands on her belly, alternating every few steps with putting them on her hips. She looks cute as a button in her maternity clothes. She's always cute, but the top she has on really suits her.
Her wedding dress suited her, too. She got married in the autumn when she was six months pregnant. It seems like the time since then has flown by. I can't imagine what it feels like for her. In the back of my mind, as we walk through the aisles I know this time is going to be different for her.
“No baby shower,” she says and then takes a deep inhale. “We don’t need anything and besides, this one is the second.” We pass the wall of strollers as my brow arches. They're all shoulder-height off the ground, and I guess you're supposed to lift them down if you want to test them out. I don't trust myself to lift one of those over both our heads. Whose idea was it to put them up so high?
“If you don't want a shower, that's fine, but we can have a sprinkle.”
Mags shakes her head, swishing her blonde hair, and sighs as she reaches up to touch one of the tires on the nearest stroller. It's a sturdy piece of rubber. A baby riding in this thing wouldn't feel even the slightest bump.