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)
“Good. We went to the barn for Grace’s lesson, and you’ll be happy to know that Miller and Shana are hooking up—I mean ‘going out’—Friday.” I throw up air quotes so he knows that I truly meant the former, not the latter correction.
He replies with a roll of his eyes and quips sarcastically, “May the lovebirds live happily ever after.”
“Or at least until Saturday morning’s walk of shame,” I reply, tilting my head with a pointed look. It’s not that I think Miller and Shana can’t be a long-term thing, but having met both of them now, I don’t think either of them is actually looking for that. “We also went to Starbucks for Frappuccinos.” I sigh dramatically, and Cameron goes tense. “That girl,” I say, soothing his worry with a grin, even as I whine.
“What’d she do now?” he asks, a smile teasing at his lips. He can’t wait to hear what antics his beloved daughter has gotten up to now.
“She went full debate mode with me, arguing whether today was visit number one or two,” I inform him. “We finally came to the agreement that the week officially begins on Monday, so she gets two frappes between Monday and Sunday, and visits don’t roll over if she doesn’t use one, nor can she borrow from the next week.”
Cameron presses his lips together, but this time, rather than being a sign of anger, it seems like he’s trying to hold back a laugh at my high-stakes negotiations with Grace. “Sounds like a fair resolution,” he says evenly. But his eyes are sparkling.
“Are you actually laughing at me?” I demand. “You have no idea how hard I had to work to hammer that out with her.” I push my hair behind my ear, feigning exasperation, but too quickly, I give in and smile. “And so we’re on the same page… Visit number one of the week is ticked off the permissible activities list. Otherwise, you know that girl will play us against each other.”
“That, she will,” he agrees. “What about you? What did you do today?”
“I went to a farmer’s market and learned all about honey. I even tried six different kinds. My favorite was the wildflower one, but I bought the buckwheat one. I want to put a spoonful in your shakes because it’s supposed to be full of antioxidants. And I thought it’d stand up to your greens powder better.”
The market was so fun. I walked around for nearly two hours, shopping and chatting with people who’d made all their own products. The beekeeper had been deeply passionate about his hobby and eager to educate a willing student, so I was happy to buy a big jar of the fruits of his bees’ labor.
“You bought me honey?” He sounds incredulous. Or horrified. I’m not sure which, but there’s a hollowness to the question.
I nod. “Yeah, is that okay? You don’t have to try it if you don’t want to.”
Before he can answer, Grace races into the room. “Will you braid my hair now?”
Tension that I don’t understand shoots through Cameron and he says, “Braids?”
Confused by his suddenly sharp tone, I explain, “Grace asked if I could braid her hair. That okay?”
He clears his throat and I can sense a ‘no’ in the air, but then he nods stiffly. “Yes, of course.”
Peering at him curiously, I tell Grace, “Can you get a comb, a spray bottle of water, and two ponytailers?” I count out the three items on my fingers, noticing that I need to redo my nails. The bubblegum pink that matches my hair is chipped on a couple, and I could go for a bit of smoothing out, too.
“Got it!” Grace shouts, bolting upstairs.
“What’s wrong?” I whisper as soon as I think Grace is far enough away to not overhear us.
“Oh, nothing,” Cameron says, sounding like something is very wrong.
With no time for beating around the bush, I demandingly hiss, “What’s. Wrong?”
After a quick check that Grace hasn’t magically returned, he whispers back, “Her friend said something about her hair. I’m hoping this isn’t related.”
He barely has a chance to get the words out before Grace comes bounding back into the room, proclaiming, “Here you go!”
She thrusts the gathered supplies into my waiting hands, and after confirming the items, I set it all down on the coffee table. Grace sits on the floor in front of me, crisscrossing her legs, and I start to comb through her hair, parting it down the middle into two sections, my mind racing at the small amount of information Cameron had time to give me.
“Do you get your hair braided a lot?” I ask, keeping my tone light as I pry into what the hell’s going on.
“No. Dad can’t do it very well, so I usually just wash, brush, and go. If it’s wild in the morning, I’ll spray it all down and comb it back into curls.” As she speaks, she’s twisting the ends of the section I’m not working with around her finger and staring at it critically.