Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 104151 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104151 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
I set my mug on the coffee table and folded my hands in front of me. “I don’t see the young woman who hid alcohol by the creek or backed into a utility post or missed curfew. I don’t see her job as a sign that she’s lost without a dream. I see the person who dealt with a child vomiting on her and wetting his pants. I only see her patience and kindness. The meals she made for us, the laundry she folded. The costume she sewed. The times she gave up going out with friends to watch a five-year-old on a Friday night.
“Don’t be angry that I love her. You should be shocked if I didn’t fall deeply in love with her because she’s amazing. You raised a wonderful, loving, compassionate woman. And I just want to spend the rest of my life proving to her and everyone else that I’m worthy of her heart.”
Janet pressed a tissue to her cheek to dry her tears, and then she squeezed Peter’s hand.
I gave it my all. And I knew from the look on his face that it wasn’t enough, and that was okay. Had I been in his shoes, I wouldn’t have given a twenty-eight-year-old single dad my blessing to take off with my eighteen-year-old daughter.
The front door creaked open, and a few seconds later, Eve and Josh poked their heads into the living room.
“Eve said I can help her pack,” Josh said with excitement. “She’s coming to Colorado with us.” He beamed.
Peter bowed his head, rubbing the back of his neck while Janet smiled at Josh and stood, wiping a few more tears.
“I’ll help too,” she said, taking his hand and leading him up the stairs.
I grabbed my coffee and headed toward the kitchen, stopping to kiss Eve on the cheek as she stood at the threshold, staring at her father. As I stepped past her, she moved closer to him. I stopped just around the corner to listen.
“I love you,” she said softly to him. “I’m going to make you proud, but not because I have to, just because I want to.”
“Eve,” he said her name, and his voice cracked with emotion.
She sniffled, and I continued to the kitchen.
It wasn’t going to be easy, but it would be worth it.
EPILOGUE
FAITH HILL & TIM MCGRAW, “IT’S YOUR LOVE”
10 years later …
Eve
Colorado.
Alabama.
Washington.
“We’re done moving,” I said. “So you can take those flowers and shove them up your—”
“Tell Mommy to watch her mouth,” Kyle said to our four-year-old twin girls, Bonnie and Louise, as he split the bouquet in half.
They walked behind the counter to give me the flowers in exchange for caramel apple cookies. I put the flowers in water while the girls sat at a café table by the window. My bakery opened in fifteen minutes.
“I got the call,” Kyle said, wrapping his arms around me.
I refused to look at him. “The call” was code for pack everything up, he got a new job, and it was time to move.
“I’m not going. I finally opened my bakery. Josh graduates in three years. The girls love it here. Clifford has room to roam. My orchard is thriving. So no.” I shook my head and refused to look at him even though his face was inches from mine. “It’s my turn.”
“You’re sexy when you’re mad,” he said on a chuckle.
“I’m not mad. I’m matter-of-fact. And don’t think of it as sexy because I’m not having sex with you ever again if we’re moving. In fact, I’m not moving. I’ll keep the kids and the dog, and you can leave. You’re getting kind of old anyway. It might be time to trade you in for a younger model.”
“Baby,” he lowered his voice, brushing his lips along my ear, “I don’t know where to start. First, we’ve already had sex twice today, and it’s not even nine a.m. So your sex threats don’t hold up.”
I glanced over at the girls to see if they were listening to us.
“Second,” he continued, “no other man could handle you. They’d try to tame you, and that would be a crime.”
I frowned at his nonsense. “Whatever call you got, call them back and tell them no.”
“I can’t. I already said yes.”
“Kyle,” my voice cracked as I felt my dreams slipping away. I had only had my bakery for nine months.
We always moved for his job, chased his dreams. But he promised when we bought land with an apple orchard outside of Seattle, it would be the last time. He said he’d be content with coaching high school football and teaching math while supporting my dreams.
We’d painted rooms.
Made friends.
Found a church the girls liked.
He even built the girls and me a hut.
“I know,” he kissed my forehead. “I could cry too.”
I wasn’t going to cry, but I was close.