Total pages in book: 156
Estimated words: 157140 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 786(@200wpm)___ 629(@250wpm)___ 524(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 157140 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 786(@200wpm)___ 629(@250wpm)___ 524(@300wpm)
Troy continues to look over his drink at me, damn him.
And about that time—perfect timing— the waitress returns with a tray stacked with our food. She places a steaming plate down in front of each of us and smacks her head. “Oh, I’m such a dummy. I forgot to refill your waters. Let me grab that.”
“Not a problem,” I say politely.
I’m so happy for the distraction that she could’ve poured the whole tray on my lap and I’d still thank her.
“God, I’m starving!” Destiny cuts into her fish, scraping her knife loudly across the plate.
I can’t even get after her.
With the kidlet gushing about the best fish she’s ever had, I don’t have to suffer Troy and his diabolical sense of humor. If I’m lucky, I might keep Little Miss Science Chick off my brain for five minutes.
When the waitress returns with our water, I order a second bourbon to help take the edge off.
Am I really okay with Eliza teaching my kid to surf?
My stomach twists at the idea of Destiny—okay, either of them—out there far enough on the water to get into trouble. I’ll scare up an extra lifeguard later and make sure they’re discreetly waiting in the wings to step in if anything goes wrong.
Hopefully, I’ll also have another day to come up with whatever I’m going to say about that kiss.
That goddamned kiss.
When my new drink arrives, I swallow half of it in one gulp.
It’s been that kind of day. I tune out while Troy and Destiny make conversation.
“Hey, Dad, can I check out the arcade next door?”
I glance over, about to tell her to eat first when I realize she’s cleared her plate.
Damn. I’ve only taken a few bites.
It feels sinful to lose my appetite with such a delicious dinner.
“Have you eaten today? Before now?”
“A few bananas and an acai bowl for lunch,” she tells me.
“You only ate fruit?” My brow furrows, hoping I don’t have an eating disorder masquerading as a new fad diet on my hands.
“I was busy.”
“Before your dolphins? And with things that aren’t digital?” I gesture to her phone.
She nods. “The signal out here kinda sucks anyway. Troy just told me it gets better in town.”
I smile. “There’s a booster in the conference room if you need it. A little time off the grid could be good for you—as long as you remember to check in. And let’s try for three square meals tomorrow, okay, little bee?”
“Ugh, I’m fifteen, Dad. Not five. Don’t call me that.” She sits up straighter with an indignant look. “Can I go to the arcade now? I saw some old-school pinball machines...”
“Your phone still gets a signal here, right?”
She nods.
“Then go. But don’t talk to any strangers and you only leave to come straight back here. Got it?”
“Yes, sir.” She pushes her chair out and stands awkwardly.
Oh, right. Old-school, she said. That probably means the machines still take coins or tokens.
I fish a twenty out of my wallet and hand it to her. Her face twists like it’s not enough, but she knows better than to keep milking me for more.
I watch her leave, noting that she looks too much like a grown woman in that dress with her pink bag swinging off her shoulder.
“How ’bout another round?” Troy asks, hammering his empty glass down with a decisive clink.
“Sure,” I say, draining the last of my bourbon and liking how my brain fogs over.
He waves the waitress down and orders a couple shots of gold rum for both of us. No point in waiting for one to be gone to reorder when we’re both in the mood to indulge.
“So, tell me, man, now that it’s just us... Is it going to be just you and Destiny forever?”
I snort. “Straight to the point, huh? Listen, I’m either on the phone trying to convince a lit teacher my kid isn’t the anti-christ or I’m at work. I don’t know how I’d ever have time for anything else.”
“C’mon, Cole. Destiny seems way too chill to get in trouble.”
“It’s normal trouble, thank fuck. She uses her phone too much or talks during class, but it drives her English teacher crazy. Still, she has a four point oh. Unweighted. She landed a 1540 on her PSATs last fall—a year earlier than most kids. I know I’m lucky and I shouldn’t bitch. Just wish she wasn’t glued to her phone twenty-four seven.”
Troy laughs, his face as boyish and easygoing as I remember, despite the fact that he’s started greying slightly at the temples. “Welcome to the 2020s, bossman. Every kid on the planet stays glued to their phones—so do most adults. That’s nothing to sweat. She’s turning out great. She’ll be out of the house soon, won’t she?”
“A few more years, yeah. She was looking at Columbia or Cornell—really interested in seeing the other coast—until this marine biology obsession cropped up recently.”