Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 111400 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 557(@200wpm)___ 446(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111400 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 557(@200wpm)___ 446(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
“Family, friends, students, holidays, love,” Mariah recited. Then she smiled in approval. “Those are good. Better than my dad’s.”
Cole crumpled up a piece of construction paper and threw it at his daughter like a snowball. “Enough, you. It’s time for bed. Let’s get this table cleaned up.”
“I’ll clean it up,” I said, rising to my feet and reaching to gather up all the scraps. “You can put Mariah to bed.”
“She can help,” Cole insisted, taking his maligned turkey over to the fridge and sticking it onto the front with a magnet. “Mariah, return Grandma’s scissors to her junk drawer and put the glue sticks and extra paper back in the craft cupboard.”
“Okay.”
A couple minutes later, the table had been cleared except for my wine glass and Cole’s beer bottle. “Say goodnight to Miss Cheyenne, and get upstairs,” Cole told his daughter.
“Can’t she come up and say goodnight like she did before?” Mariah asked.
Exhaling, Cole looked at me. “Do you mind?”
“Not at all,” I said. “That gives me a chance to finish my wine. I’ll come up in five minutes?”
“Great!” Mariah grinned and scooted out of the kitchen, and I sat down again.
Cole lowered himself into the seat next to me. “Thanks for staying.”
“No problem.” I picked up my wine and took a sip. “I didn’t realize how much I needed this.”
He laughed. “Stressful day?”
I shrugged. “My mom is a little extra these days, with Thanksgiving this week, and my brother’s wedding in two weeks, and then Christmas not long after that. But with Griffin well on his way to giving her the grandchildren she’s always wanted, you’d think she’d let up on me a little, but no.”
“No?”
I shook my head. “Yesterday she left this pamphlet on the kitchen table called ‘Beating the Biological Clock.’”
Cole winced. “Ouch.”
“Tell me about it. I was so furious, I crumpled it up and threw it away right in front of her. And then late last night, of course, I got out of bed, dug it out of the trash, and read the whole damn thing front to back. And it turns out she’s sort of right! Women lose, like, a thousand eggs a month, and peak fertility occurs when girls are between the ages of eighteen and thirty.” I tossed back the rest of my wine—so much for taking it slow—then set the glass on the table with a plunk. “And you know what else? Men continue to make sperm and testosterone at virtually the same rates throughout their entire lives. So not only is the asshole biological clock a real thing, it’s a real thing only women have to deal with.”
“Sorry,” he said.
I looked at him, and his expression was so contrite I had to laugh. “It’s not your fault. And I don’t think my body is shriveling up and wasting away that quickly. I have at least a few good years left.”
“Your body is fucking perfect, Cheyenne.”
I swear to God, those words came out of his mouth.
My jaw fell open.
His face went red. “Fuck. Sorry.”
“For what? It was a compliment.”
“Men shouldn’t comment on women’s bodies.”
“But did you mean it—what you said?”
“Yes.”
“Then say it again,” I demanded, my pulse racing.
He looked me in the eye. “Your body is fucking perfect, Cheyenne.”
“Okay, I’m ready!” called Mariah from the top of the stairs.
With my face flushed with pleasure, I pushed back my chair and hurried out of the kitchen. He likes my body! He likes my body! He likes my body! I kept repeating the words in my head, even though it made me feel like the world’s shittiest feminist. But it was the first time Cole had ever given me any indication he saw me like that.
Up in Mariah’s room, I watched her scramble beneath the covers and lowered myself to the edge of her bed. Once she was tucked in, her stuffed dog beneath her arm, I switched off the lamp on the bedside table. I was afraid if I left it on, she’d notice how pink my cheeks were and ask why.
Oh, no reason. I’ve just been waiting for your dad to notice me for twenty years, and he just sort of admitted he thinks I’m hot, but I’d like you to please remember when I said looks aren’t the most important and not how happy I am right now, okay? Thanks.
But she had something else on her mind. “Miss Cheyenne, are you in love?”
The question startled me. “Why do you ask?”
“On your turkey, you put love as one of the things you were grateful for.”
“Oh.” Somewhat relieved, I thought for a moment. “Well, there are all different kinds of love. Love between family members, love between friends, love for our co-workers and neighbors, love for our country, love for our pets.”
“And for our stuffed animals,” Mariah added, kissing her dog on the head.