Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 96586 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 483(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96586 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 483(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
“The ability to communicate is one weapon that needs to always stay sharpened for the battlefield, Collins.” He gives me a small pat on the shoulder. “Get to it.”
Here we fucking go again with that easier said than done bullshit.
I knew our second shot at this wouldn’t be a stroll through the fucking supermarket, but I also didn’t think it would be this hard. And maybe it’s this hard because we’ve changed so much. Or maybe it’s this hard because instead of being love drunk kids, we’re intoxicated adults who are trying to have limits and boundaries and live responsibly while enjoying that feeling.
I meant what I said about being the man she deserves.
I just gotta put the work into the shit like I do for every other aspect of my life.
Brick by brick.
Word by fucking word.
Chapter 13
Presley
Discussion Topic 7: Compromise is the Foundation for Coexistence
Bouncing like a bunny, I cross the finish line dead last.
Grey, the toddler I’m “racing” joyfully laughs at his victory seconds after before running over to me for a hug. “I vin, Miss Morlasin! I vin!”
“You did!” I gush as I pick him up. “You’re the best little bunny I’ve seen all day.”
He chuckles again.
“Show me your bunny nose again.” Seeing his tiny, pointed nose bounce gets me giggling. “See. Best. Bunny. Ever.”
More laughter is given.
More hugs.
More reminders that I without a doubt have the best career in the entire world.
Sure, most days are filled with tours for parents who consider their offspring a burden rather than a blessing, enough paperwork to replant a forest, and employees who at times get along as well as the small children in their care, but it’s all worth it for the sound of a child’s laughter.
The look of joy on their face when you take the time to bond with them.
To prove to them that even though they’re young and small, they still matter.
Their choices matter.
Sometimes as adults we forget just how important that is to feel regardless of age.
I carry Grey back over to his mom who was too busy texting to play with him. “You’ve got quite the athlete on your hands, Mrs. Braley.” Shifting him into her clutches forces her to stop ignoring him. “Maybe even an Olympic gold medalist.”
“In jumping?” She sarcastically retorts.
“Track and field.”
At that she hums and turns towards him to ask, “Do you like running and jumping?”
He’s a two-year-old boy.
Of course, he fucking loves running and jumping.
That’s like asking him does he like popsicles or macaroni day in the cafeteria.
They stroll away to the left while I jog to the right where Katherine is watching her husband and daughter play on the playground. For someone who recently learned to walk in the last couple of months, she sure is fast.
My best friend doesn’t even glance my direction when I sit down on the bench beside her. “I can’t believe you got your face painted, darling.” She tosses one leg over the other. “Do you have any idea how bad that cheap shit is for your skin?”
“Tiny ears, tiny words.”
The reminder receives a disgusted huff.
“And I don’t care how bad it is for my skin. It’s not like I wear this ish every day. I can sacrifice my complexion for the good of the school a few times a year.”
“Good to know that while so much else in your life has changed your devotion to the kids hasn’t.”
“You’re exaggerating. My life hasn’t changed that much.”
She gives me a crooked smirk. “I left a heartbroken borderline recluse and returned to a bubbly, overzealous social butterfly.”
Waving to a passing family who is calling my name, I quietly argue, “I am not exactly a social butterfly.”
“Says the woman who had a double date to a midnight showing of Robocop two weeks ago.”
“It was just a movie!”
And I kept the whole had sex in the backseat of my car afterward part to myself.
“Sometimes it feels like Mission Impossible to make our schedules work so unorthodox or ‘out of my norm’ things have to be done.”
“Yes, but my question, darling, is who is doing that work?”
Our stares lock. “What?”
“Which one of you is putting in the work to try to figure how to make your lives mesh?”
Her question swiftly shifts a glower onto my face.
“I understand life with Xander was a big, dull, cycle of time that sort of just rotated itself in such a consistent circle that it would give a clock an O-”
“Tiny ears!”
“-however, that doesn’t mean that in your shiny, new, still very vulnerable relationship that one of you should become a contortionist to accommodate the other. The key to lasting happiness, darling, isn’t switching from one extreme to the other. It’s about establishing a balance.”
“We are balanced.”
“Like my husband and daughter sitting on that seesaw over there.”
The urge to challenge her instantly appears on my tongue only to be dusted away.