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)
Grace drops her fork to her plate and stares at her hands in her lap. Slowly, she nods. “Beatrice.”
I suck in a breath as so many things become crystal clear in a blink. Grace has always been a bit quick to speak, and we’ve made countless jokes about her innate lack of a filter, but what she said to Beatrice was so markedly harsh and uncharacteristically cruel. I assumed it was because she was irritated by Beatrice, which in her defense was completely reasonable, because she wasn’t the greatest nanny. Maybe there was more to it, though? If Hannah says mean things and Grace hears them over and over, it’d make sense that she’d begin to mimic those things, becoming meaner herself. And that is not who I want Grace to become.
More importantly, I don’t think it’s who she wants to become herself.
“So maybe she’s not the wisest choice, huh?” Riley asks bluntly.
Grace shakes her head, still not able to look either of us in the eyes. “What do I do now?” she whispers, sounding utterly defeated. “Hannah’s my best friend.”
I can’t take it anymore. I wrap my arm around my daughter, pulling her my way in a tight hug. But my eyes are on Riley, pleading for help. I am so far out of my element here, downright lost in the messy quagmire of teenage girl friendships that I never saw the signs of any of this. She offers me a tight smile and then does what she does best.
“Well, if you ask me, it sounds like Bella and Trinity might be better girl’s girls, because when shit hit the fan, they had your back. Do you think they could be better friends than Hannah has been?”
Grace stays quiet for a moment, thinking before she sits up, nodding. “Yeah, I think so.”
“And do you think you could be a better friend to them than you have been?” Riley gives Grace a pointed look, calling her out without naming any specifics. From what Grace has said, I gather that my daughter hasn’t been the best friend either. But she wants to improve, and that’s got to count for something. At least I hope it does.
Grace swallows thickly. “Yeah, for sure.”
“I think so too,” Riley tells her. The smile she gives Grace is kind and gentle, and full of optimism that Grace can do it if she truly wants to.
“Can I be excused? I want to go call Bella and Trinity.”
“Yeah, of course, sweetheart. Go ahead. And maybe we can watch a movie or something later?”
“Sure, Dad,” she answers, already stepping away from the island. But she turns back. I think she’s coming to me for another hug. Instead, she goes straight to Riley and wraps her arms around her tightly. “Thanks, Riley. For everything.”
Riley hugs her back, her voice hitching as she says, “Of course, Gracie girl. I got you.”
My heart catches in my throat. Grace has never had a mother the way other kids do. She was so young when Michelle died that she doesn’t remember much, and since I was too fucked up to talk about it, I did a shitty job of keeping Michelle’s memory alive. It’s almost like she didn’t exist. Except she very much did, and her loss left a hole in Grace’s life. My mom and Kayla have done a great job filling that void, but it wasn’t until this moment, with Grace and Riley hugging, that the full depth of what Grace is missing hits me. And while Riley isn’t her mother and never will be, she’s still a role model for Grace, and she shows up for her when the shit hits the fan, as she said.
Riley is the ultimate girl’s girl.
Except she’s not a girl at all. She’s a woman who cares about my child enough to go on a middle of the night rescue mission, talk her through her heartbreak, and help her figure out ways to be a better friend and decent human. She’s a woman who makes me smile, has me doing ridiculous things like fashion shows and playing tag, and has me lusting after her twenty-four, seven.
Riley releases Grace, and my daughter runs for the stairs. I hear her foot stomps and then her door closes.
And it’s just the two of us.
“Thank you.” I need to say that first, because of everything else this morning, the way she helped Grace means everything to me.
She smiles sweetly, but then it fades away as she faces the elephant in the room head on, “This morning was… I got carried away by the moment… I’m sorry.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for,” I snap, confused about why she’s apologizing. “I’m sorry. I usually have better control. I shouldn’t have…” I trail off, not sure how to politely say ‘shoved my hand between your legs and rubbed your hard little clit while grinding my cock on your ass’. I’m sure someone at Hallmark has made the perfect card for that, but I’m not a poet, so I sure can’t find the appropriate words for it.