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)
“Oh.” Fuck. “Where are you going?”
“I just—” Renee looks around and bites her lip, obviously worried. Out of all of the possibilities this morning, I didn’t anticipate this. I struggle for a moment not knowing exactly what to say.
“If you're looking for your purse, it's downstairs.”
“I was,” Renee admits and then glances down to the breakfast in my hands. “I'm really sorry you made breakfast.”
“Don't worry about it.” I put the plates down on my dresser and pull myself back together. “You need a ride to your place, don't you? I'll take you there right now. Unless you need to be somewhere else.”
“I have an appointment.” Renee looks away from me with a frown on her face and a look in her eyes that looks like guilt. “I can always call Mags for a ride, if you don't want—”
“Don't do that. I want to take you.” Something awful settles in my chest as I stare at Renee, wondering what the hell is going on. I almost ask her again if she’s sure she’s okay, but I already know she’ll tell me she is when she obviously isn’t. All I can think is to not push her, that she’ll tell me.
“Are you sure?” She looks up at me, obviously worried about something and the question is right there on the tip of my tongue. “I should have told you last night I had to leave early,” she says softly and then brushes her hair back from her face. “I feel like a jerk, now that you made breakfast.” She offers a sad smile in apology, and I can’t stand her thinking that pancakes are worth getting upset over.
I shrug, it’s fine. “Forget about breakfast,” I tell her softly. “There'll be another chance to have breakfast.” I hope so, anyway. “Let me get you home.”
Renee
The divorce lawyer's office is in the town where my mom used to live. She has a small, swanky looking office on the main street. When I get there, my mom is seated in the waiting area out front with tears in her eyes, looking down at her phone. Her black jeans look a bit loose as does her sweater. I imagine they’re my aunt’s. But her hair is done and so is her makeup. The foundation is doing a piss poor job of covering that bruise around her eye.
The sight of her like this will keep me up at night. It breaks my heart. And the guilt of sleeping in and being late takes over with every step closer I get.
She looks up at me when she hears my shoes clacking against the stone floor and stands up to hug me. It’s a firm hug and she rests her shoulder a moment longer than normal. “Renee,” she says in a small voice against my shoulder.
“Hi, Mom. You okay?” I ask her and she looks me up and down. I’m still in the clothes from last night. No time to change but I think it looks okay. Or at least I thought it did.
“You look beautiful, baby girl,” she says. Baby girl is her nickname for me, and it makes me smile.
“I'm sorry you had to come all the way out here, especially in this traffic,” she says.
“It’s not a long drive,” I lie, because I don't want her to feel any worse than she already does. I got her text when Griffin was downstairs making breakfast. She’s really going to do it. She’s going to leave him for good. She said she took the first appointment available. There was a cancellation, and she was going. She’s really going to do it. “You need someone with you,” I tell her and grab her hand.
I almost didn’t reply when she first messaged. Then guilt got the better of me. When she said she’s here and was scared but ready, I asked her if Aunt Laura was with her. She isn’t.
I don’t want my mom to be alone for this. I also don’t want her to back out because she’s scared. It doesn’t ease the guilt I felt when Griffin came up the stairs with pancakes. Someday I'm going to have a life that doesn't feel like this, I promise myself. “You don't have to worry about me, okay?” I tell my mom.
“I do.” My mom takes my hand and pulls me into the seat next to her. The sofa in the lawyer's office looks nice, but it's too hard to be truly comfortable. It's nothing like Griffin's bed. I woke up so warm and comfortable and satisfied this morning that I wanted to roll over and go back to sleep, but then I heard sounds in the kitchen and realized he was making breakfast, and I didn't want to be a mess…then the texts came. It took everything not to get emotional while alone in his bedroom. I’m proud I at least kept it together until I got to my car.