Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 82163 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82163 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
“Okay, I have to ask you something later,” she says, putting her hand in mine. “But first, what are we having for dinner?”
“Well, Abigail is the guest, so she gets to decide,” I throw to Abigail as we walk back to the SUV.
“Absolutely not.” She shakes her head, laughing as Penelope holds her hand also.
“Okay, fine,” I huff. “How about some chicken parm and some spaghetti?” I look at both of them, who share a look and agree. I take my phone out and order the food to be delivered to my house.
When we get home, Abigail sort of stays in the back, not knowing where to go or what to do, “Do you want something to drink?” I ask her softly when I walk into the kitchen, going to the fridge.
“I’ll have some water,” she says, and her stomach makes a huge gurgle noise, “and I think a snack might be a good thing.” She puts her hand on her stomach, and I want to feel what she feels. My hand itches to touch her stomach, but Penelope takes her and pulls her into the pantry, where they decide on peanut butter and apples for a snack.
They sit at the island. Abigail cuts the apple for the both of them while Penelope gets a spoon for the peanut butter. I could get used to this, I think to myself. I watch the two of them talking like if I’m not even here. Abigail even asks about her homework as Penelope empties her school bag.
“What did you want to talk to me about?” I finally ask, leaning against the counter and drinking my own bottle of water.
“Oh yeah,” Penelope says. “Do you think I should start wearing a bra?”
I choke on my water, and I have to rush to the sink to spit out whatever is left in my mouth. I cough as I try to get my breathing back to normal. “I’m sorry, what?” I ask her ask I cough.
“Well, Adriana said she went bra shopping so I was thinking maybe it’s time for me to wear a bra.”
“Um,” I hum, not sure what else to say.
“You know,” Abigail starts to say, “I started wearing a bra in the seventh grade.” Abigail looks at her shocked. “But what I did do.” She grabs a piece of apple. “Is wear a little sports bra.”
Abigail looks at her. “Can I get a sports bra?” she asks. “I think your boobs really start to grow when you get your period.”
I almost choke for a second time in less than five minutes. “What the hell are they teaching you at this school?” Abigail just looks at me, rolling her lips. I don’t have the time to ask her anything else because the doorbell rings with the food.
“Are you going to be okay?” Abigail asks when I come back in with the three bags of food.
“Who knows?” I shake my head. “Where is Penelope?”
“I sent her to wash her hands,” Abigail replies. “Can I help?”
We work side by side preparing the table. The three of us sit down, and, thankfully, there isn’t any more talk about bras or periods. When it’s time for Penelope to go to bed, she gives Abigail a hug and then walks up the stairs. “I’ll be right back.” She nods. “Then we can talk.”
I walk away from her without kissing her like I want to. I tuck Penelope in bed. By the time I go back down to Abigail, I find her on the couch, lying down on her side, sleeping with her hand on her stomach. I try not to make noise as I grab a throw blanket from the big basket in the corner, covering her. I sit down near her feet, watching her. Today has been a fucking dream come true in more ways than one.
Putting my head back, I close my eyes for a minute, and the next thing you know, I’m blinking them open. I turn my head and see Abigail just watching me. “What time is it?”
“A little after three,” she tells me, and I sit up, shocked that I just slept six hours.
“Are you hungry?” I ask her, running my hand through my hair as she shakes her head.
“We didn’t have our talk.”
“We did not,” I reply, getting up and holding out my hand for her. “Let’s get you in bed, and we can talk tomorrow.”
“I don’t know about that,” she hesitates, and I want to kick myself in the ass.
“You can stay in the guest room,” I offer, letting her know this isn’t why I want her to stay with me. I am not ready to let her go yet. “It’s too late to drive you to your car.” My hand still hangs there, waiting for her. “Besides, I’d have to wake Penelope.”