Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 98524 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 493(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98524 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 493(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
But ever since that idiot had shown up on my doorstep, I had found myself staring at my daughter, looking for features that matched my own. She looked a lot like Eloise, and I always figured Eloise had a stronger genetic pull than I did. I thought Aleesa’s nose resembled mine, but perhaps that was just in my head. Just a way for me to find some kind of similarity.
If a man is proud to become a dad, he does not spend time looking for what parts of him might be missing in his child. He accepts it all. Embraces it all. Because in his mind, it does not matter what his kid looks like—he still loves them.
“I think I’ll take Aleesa to the park.” Octavia’s voice sounded behind me as I stood on the deck, staring at the trees in the distance.
I peered over my shoulder. She was concerned, her face pinched just a bit and her eyes swimming with sympathy. That whole week had been off for us.
“That would probably be good,” I said. “I am sure she is tired of being around the house.”
“She might be. Do you want to join us?” she offered. “Maybe a change of scenery will help clear your head a bit. You’ve been cooped up all week.”
I turned around, forcing a smile. “I am okay, Octavia. You guys go.”
She sighed before nodding. “Okay. Well . . . let me know if you need anything.”
I watched her go back into the house. When the door clicked shut, I walked to one of the cushioned outdoor chairs and sat down.
I was not sure how long I sat there before I heard the door creak on the hinges again. This time I saw my mother walking out, carrying a tray with both hands.
“You need to eat, hijo.” She brought the tray my way and set it down on the side table near me.
“No tengo hambre,” I muttered.
“I do not care if you are not hungry. Eat,” she demanded, taking the chair on the other side of the table. “You have hardly eaten all week. I am worried about you. It does not help that Octavia makes all those eccentric meals. You have Spanish blood in you. You should tell her you do not eat those things.”
I shifted my gaze up to meet hers. “Go easy on Octavia, Mamá.”
“I am going easy on her,” she countered swiftly.
“No. You have been giving her trouble all week. You may think I do not notice the way you act toward her, but I am not blind. All she is trying to do is help.”
“Well, she is a little too helpful, in my opinion. People like her are clearly after something.”
“She is not after anything,” I snapped, feeling my eyebrows pull together. “She almost did not keep the job as Aleesa’s nanny because of me. If she had not connected so much with Leesa, I am positive she would not have stayed. A woman like that does not need anything from me.”
My mother said nothing in response, but she held my stare.
“Besides, her sister is well off,” I went on. “And her sister is about to marry Deke, who is my best friend. If she needed to gain money or wanted to capitalize off of anyone, she would do it with them. But she does not do that, and she does not think that way. Why? Because she is not the type to take advantage of people. So stop being rude to her and start accepting her, Má. She is not going anywhere. Not if I can help it.”
My mother sat back in her chair, folding her arms across her chest and sniffing. She turned her head, looking at any and everything but me.
“You really like her, then?” she asked after stewing for a minute.
“Yes,” I answered. “I really like her. And I want her to be happy while she is here. She is a really nice, thoughtful, supportive person. You would know that if you actually gave her a chance, Mamá. Cat likes her, and you know she will find a reason to hate anyone. I am sure you can learn to like Octavia too.”
My mother pursed her lips, but I did not miss the way the rest of her face softened.
“Well . . .” Finally, she focused on me again. “That is all you had to say. I will try to be nicer to her from now on.”
“Not try. Will. Okay?”
She tutted. “Fine. I will.”
I smiled. “Gracias.”
Pushing out of the chair, she said, “Eat.” She returned to the house while I glanced at the food on the tray. Eggs over easy, Argentinean sausage, and tortillas with a side of salsa verde.
This was one of my favorite meals . . . but I could not find it in me to bother eating. Instead, I picked up the coffee and drank it, allowing the warmth to soothe a tiny bit of me.