Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 92368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
So, yeah, The Mistake, it is.
Dodging Zeus is exhausting.
And I’m ashamed to say that I’ve used my daughter as an aid for avoidance. I’m a terrible mother. But, whenever Zeus and I have had to be together in the same room because of Gigi, I’ve made sure to follow my four-year-old daughter around like a shadow at all times.
I’m pathetic and weak.
Aunt Elle has been amazing.
After The Mistake, I drove straight home. Pretended like everything was okay. Then, after putting Gigi to bed, I fell apart. I literally cried on Aunt Elle’s shoulder.
She didn’t pass judgment. She just listened to me.
Then, she asked me what I wanted. And she said, if that was Zeus, then it was okay. It wasn’t something to be ashamed of because we love who we love. Or as it said in Selena Gomez’s song, “The Heart Wants What It Wants.”
I didn’t pretend to Aunt Elle and say I didn’t love him still. Because what would be the point? I’ve loved Zeus since I was fifteen.
Five years of his absence didn’t change that. So, at this point, I don’t think anything will.
I know I’ll always love him.
But trust him?
His word counts for nothing with me. And I don’t know if it ever will again.
The only thing I do trust is his love for Gigi. I know he’d never willingly hurt her.
But he doesn’t see what I do.
If Zeus and I got back together, Gigi would get attached to us as a family. And, if Zeus and I didn’t work out, it would hurt her. I won’t do that to her.
I won’t do that to myself.
No matter how much I love him.
I told all of this to Aunt Elle.
She told me that she loved me. That she was proud of me. And that she’d support whatever decision I made.
But there’s no decision to make.
I’ve already made it.
Zeus and I are never happening. Despite his claims that we’re inevitable and his promise to fight until he has me back.
All I need is some time. Just enough to strengthen myself against him. A few more weeks, and I’ll be fine.
Or that’s what I’ve been telling myself anyway.
I’ve managed a week already. Okay, it’s been hard, and he’s tried his best to get me alone, but I’ve succeeded in not letting it happen once.
He’s here every night with Gigi, putting her to bed and reading her a bedtime story. And, when he’s done, if Aunt Elle’s not here to act as a buffer and it’s just me and him, then I’m conveniently in the shower or bath.
So, he leaves.
But then, without fail, about an hour later, he calls my cell.
And, each time, I don’t answer.
He leaves a voice message. The same message every time.
“I’m not giving up, Dove. I love you.”
Then, I spend the rest of the night pretending like I don’t care while intermittently listening to the message—sometimes crying, sometimes drowning my sorrows in a bar of chocolate.
Then, I delete the voice mail. And go to bed.
And the cycle starts all over again the next day.
But I can do this. I will do this.
He will realize I’m not going to break. That The Mistake was just that, and we’re never getting back together—cue Taylor Swift’s song.
And the cycle will break.
It has to.
Because I won’t risk my daughter’s happiness for anything.
I’m rushing around, getting Gigi ready for school and myself ready for work.
Zeus offered to come and pick her up to take her to pre-K, but I declined, knowing that Aunt Elle wouldn’t be here and Gigi wouldn’t be a good buffer. She’s a kid monster in the morning, and her sole ambition in life is to glue her eyes to the television and ignore everything I ask her to do.
I’m in the kitchen, making our lunches—peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for us both. I might be twenty-four, but I have the palate of a child—when the doorbell rings.
I pause as an excited chill creeps down my spine.
Excited at the thought that it could be Zeus.
Chilled at the thought that it could be Zeus.
Messed up, thy name is Cameron.
“I gots it!” Gigi yells out, sounding a hell of a lot chipper than I feel.
“No, you’s don’t!” And I’ve also been picking up on my daughter’s vocab. Awesome. “What have I told you about answering the door?” I say sternly as I walk out of the kitchen and into the hall.
Gigi has stopped just short of the door with a guilty look on her face.
“That just ’cause it’s our doorbell ringing doesn’t means we knows who it is.”
“That’s right, Gigi girl. So, what do you do when the doorbell rings?”
“I’s waits for Mommy or Granny Elle. Or Daddy if he’s here.”
That last bit stabs into my heart like a shard of glass.
“That’s right.” I smile at her even though it’s the last thing I feel like doing. “So, now that I’m here with you, you can open the door.”