Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 55550 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 278(@200wpm)___ 222(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55550 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 278(@200wpm)___ 222(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
“I could totally be your wingwoman.”
I can’t help but laugh. “Yes, I can see it now. ‘Hi, I’m Wade, and this is my best friend, Ana, who is also my baby mama, but don’t worry, there isn’t anything between us.’”
“Strictly friends.” Ana laughs. I can’t imagine introducing myself like that. But saying those words out loud gives me a different perspective. Ana and I have a unique situation. It works for us but may not work for everyone. There are times when I wish Ana and I could make things work. Not for Goldie’s sake, but because life would be so damn easy. Ana and I get along, but that’s where things stop. We’re not in love with each other or even attracted to each other. We ended up in a situation, thanks to our inebriated state.
“Strictly friends,” I say. We talk about when she’s moving here and I tell her I’ll start looking for a place or that she can probably stay at my parents, which I know Goldie will like, until she can find a place. Living with me would be the easy option, but then I’d have to kiss any chance of getting close to Lemon out the window.
fourteen
lemon
As much as I want to say it’s the sound of the ocean waking me or the calm breeze coming through my open window or the sound the shear curtains make when the wind blows—which I can only describe as shushing—it’s not. For the past three days my phone has rung relentlessly. The number of voicemails grows by the minute (only a slight exaggeration) from school board members demanding I return to work immediately.
I find it odd how my assistant principal—the one the school board pushed through with a unanimous vote—isn’t capable of running the school in my absence. Isn’t that one of their duties?
What if I had gone away to a conference or fell so ill, I needed hospitalization? Would the school board light up my phone with demands that I return to school? Let’s not forget my very capable assistant who has worked at the school longer than whatever euphemism people want to use.
The school isn’t burning down while I’ve been basking in the sun while sitting on the beach, reading a slew of romance novels.
“What a lie,” I say as I stare at the ceiling.
The truth is, I’ve done nothing but sulk and feel sorry for myself. Once I arrived here, I sat on the beach for the rest of the day and night, not budging or wiping my tears until the sun rose. The smart thing would’ve been to get back into my car and drive home. But I’m not smart. At least, it’s how I feel right now.
Instead, I found a hotel and lucked out that they had a room with direct access to the beach. After stocking up on some food essentials, I found a used bookstore and grabbed a half dozen books, determined to read them, and find some groove in my life
Each morning, I’ve woken and gone outside to start my day, only to stay there until my stomach growled long enough to attract vulture-like birds who stared at me, waiting for me to keel over so they could feast.
I’m in a funk and I can’t get out of it. Of course, I blame whatever circumstance brought Marigold Jenkins into my town.
His town.
Our town.
In all the years, she’s been to Magnolia Grove for the summer, and from what I gather from the copious amounts of spying and eavesdropping I’ve done, she’s here during every other holiday. Most of the time I can make myself scarce and not run into them. There’s nothing like a movie marathon or a drive to Leslie’s. But during the summer, I made sure to be gone because I knew something like this would happen. It’s hard to stay strong when I am weak. It’s hard to look past the mistakes Wade and I made and find happiness.
It’s hard to move past everything when I don’t have closure.
I wipe the stream of hot tears leaking from my eyes. Wade asked for closure, and I laughed in his face. How is he the more mature one between us? Is it because he had to grow up faster when he found out he was going to be a dad?
Did he even think of me when he found out?
I suppose if I gave him the time of day, I could ask him every burning question bubbling in my soul. Then maybe, I can move on.
My phone vibrates again, and I let it go to voicemail. When the static thumping stops, I say, “You’ve reached Lemon Walsh. I am currently out of town tending to a family matter. Please contact . . .”
It’s my hope that whoever has called is also met with, “the mailbox you’re trying to reach is full.”