Total pages in book: 146
Estimated words: 137077 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 685(@200wpm)___ 548(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137077 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 685(@200wpm)___ 548(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
“Yeah, I was thinking, I have a mom,” Grace says, sounding thoughtful, and I grip Cameron’s hand tighter. “So I can’t call you that. But what about Miley? Or Momley? I think that’s probably the best option, huh?”
I blink. I can’t have heard her right. Is she making up names to call me, blending Mom and Riley in some DJ-style, mixed-up amalgamation? But she’s looking back at me expectantly, waiting for my opinion. “Uh, there might be a Renesmee situation there,” I say gently.
“Who or what’s a Renesmee?” Grace asks, looking confused at the mouthful of a name.
“Exactly,” I tell her, the sound of a whole generation of readers saying ‘what?’ in my head. “Why don’t you call me whatever you want, and if it changes over time, that’s okay too? I’m fine with Riley, or anything else.”
“Alright, we’ll workshop it,” she says agreeably before clapping her hands. “So, we good here?” She points from herself to us, apparently done with our big check-in conversation to make sure she’s fine with this new progression of our relationship. “I told Liam I’d call him tonight so we can study for our history test. We’re gonna ruin the curve for everyone else by getting As.” She sounds a little too gleeful about that, but I can’t fault her for getting a good grade by studying hard.
But Cameron needs more reassurance. He’s focused on Grace her whole life, and I understand he would never do anything that might make her uncomfortable or feel pushed out of that number-one spot in his life. I wouldn’t want that either.
“Grace, I want you to know that you can always talk to me, or Riley, or any of the family if you need to. We all want what’s best for you and love you very much,” Cameron says, and I nod along, dittoing that.
“Dad,” she says, giving him a mock-pitying look, “this is exactly what I wanted all along. I knew you’d make it happen.” With that, she hops up and holds her pinky finger out to him. “Pinky promise, I’m good if you’re good.”
He lifts his finger, wrapping it around hers. “I’m more than good,” he tells her, his eyes meeting mine. That, partnered with his smile, is a big, neon, blinking sign that he’s happy with how things have turned out.
Then the best thing happens… Grace holds her pinky out to me. I loop mine around hers, tears burning at the corners of my eyes. I can’t hold them back, and Grace wipes her fingers across my cheek as she rolls her eyes. “Geez, Riley. It’s just a pinky promise. It's not that big of a deal. Touch grass or something.”
But she’s smiling too so I know it means as much to her as it does to me. Teenagers—and almost teenagers—are volatile creatures, sometimes so deeply embedded in their emotions that you can’t drag them out, and other times, just fine skating over the surface of life. It seems Grace is in one of the latter moods. For the moment. But that could change at the drop of a hat, or the blow of the wind, or any other thing. Such is the joy of growing up.
When she runs up the stairs, Cameron leans my way. “What does that mean? Touch grass?”
I laugh. “It’s literal. Come on, I’ll show you.”
I grab a blanket from the couch and lead Cameron out back to the yard, where I sit down on the cold, hard ground. “It’s artificial grass, but it’ll have to do,” I say dryly. “Sit down.”
Cameron’s brows furrow in confusion as he looks at me skeptically, but he lowers himself down to the ground beside me. I wrap the blanket around us, staving off the cold for a few minutes and take a deep breath. “Just be. Touch grass.”
He side-eyes me like he’s still questioning whether this is a trick, or a prank, or some sort of joke, but after a moment, he inhales deeply and then exhales slowly. And we sit.
The two of us, starting our new journey together.
“Hey, one more question. Grace said I don’t have rizz. What’s that?” he asks.
I laugh, laying my head on his shoulder. “You’ve got plenty of rizz, Cameron. It’s how you made me fall in love with you.”
I can feel his eyes on me, like he’s still trying to figure it out, but then he shrugs and presses a kiss to my forehead. “If you say so.”
CAMERON
“And this one’s for you,” Grace says, passing out the presents. “And you, and you.”
The whole family has gathered at Mom and Dad’s for Christmas, the same way we always do. But this is a first because Riley is here.
She doesn’t have as many painful memories of Christmas as she did of Thanksgiving, explaining that people tend to be more generous for the holiday, and the kids would go to various parties put on by charitable sponsors and receive gifts from angel trees. She also remembers a Christmas or two with her mom, who apparently always let little Riley pick their tree at the lot.