Total pages in book: 179
Estimated words: 170878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 854(@200wpm)___ 684(@250wpm)___ 570(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 170878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 854(@200wpm)___ 684(@250wpm)___ 570(@300wpm)
He appeared just as Clara and I were finishing getting ready to go outside.
“Daddy!” Clara yelled. “It’s snowing! We’re going to go outside to make snow sculptures. You have to come.”
Beau smiled at his daughter. Though I didn’t want to, I marveled at the lines in his face that crinkled in happiness. He looked years younger.
“Of course, Bug.” He ran his hand over her hair.
Beau’s eyes then ran over me, assessing.
I shifted uncomfortably in my thick socks. Winter clothing was not complimentary, especially when I didn’t have the funds to buy the kind of jackets that were flattering or trendy or even actually warm.
The current coat I was wearing was a thrift store find. The quality of older clothes was better than the mass-produced, big-box stuff that we were polluting our planet with. It was thick, cut out some of the bitter winter wind, and was almost waterproof. It was also an ugly shade of mustard, not flattering with my skin tone, and had some weird stain on the pocket I hadn’t been able to get out. I’d tried to make the look seem intentional with a beige-covered thermal set underneath, which was tight enough to show off my body.
I didn’t miss Beau’s lingering gaze on my breasts and hips, sending rockets of sensation to my toes. But he was mostly staring at the offensive jacket.
“It’s a coat.” I stated the obvious. I had to say something. He was staring at it so intently, and I was not comfortable bathing in the loaded silence.
“Barely,” he replied as he helped Clara into her own. Hers was a thick, expensive purple coat that looked like it’d keep her cozy in Antarctica. It had a cute, bright-pink faux-fur ring around the hood.
My neck heated at the statement pointing out the glaringly obvious gaps in our socioeconomic positions. I’d grown up poor, had been teased for it, had let it become part of my identity, so it wasn’t a label that made me burn with shame. I’d been proud of myself for wrenching myself from situations of poverty, debt, and abuse, but I’d never stopped feeling self-conscious. Like everyone was looking at me, like they had back in school.
Beau was not rich, not by conventional standards. But he had a house, a backyard. His daughter had a room full of treasures and a coat that fit her, without holes, that would keep her warm.
She was healthy.
That was rich.
“You need a better coat for Maine winter,” he told me, pulling a beanie down on Clara’s head.
I zipped up the, apparently, egregious coat. “I’m only going to be here for one winter.” My throat dried, saying it out loud. “There’s no point spending money on a coat I’ll wear for one season.”
Granted, if I did move to New York City with Cole, I would need a coat. But I’d get one in the summer, when all the good sales were happening. If I could afford it. A big if.
Beau was silent as he put on Clara's gloves. “Maine winter is more than one season to you non-natives,” he eventually barked. “It won’t get warm until you’re about to leave. You need a better coat.”
I gnashed my teeth together. I hated his offhand mention of me leaving, as if it were just a detail to him. As if it weren’t ripping me apart inside.
I didn’t want to tell him I didn’t have money to spend on another coat, so I just nodded.
Clara was too excited about the snow to catch the comment about me leaving. It was a sore subject for her, one we danced around. Because whenever it was mentioned, her eyes went glassy, and she asked why I couldn’t stay with her forever.
I asked myself that often.
It didn’t help that Beau put on his own thick, impressive jacket and boots before coming outside with us. The lines blurred when he did things like this. Technically, I shouldn’t have been there since my job was taking care of Clara when he wasn’t around to take care of her. But I already had my jacket and boots on, and Clara’s gloved hand was already clutching mine.
So I was trapped in a faux family dynamic that tortured me with what I’d never truly have.
Again, I brushed those thoughts to the deepest reaches of my mind, forcing myself to be present with Clara. Not that it was difficult. I inhaled the crisp air, tilted my head upward to let the flakes melt on my cheeks, then grinned, opening my mouth to let them dissolve on my tongue.
Clara laughed, following suit.
I smiled at her happiness, her wonder, then my gaze found Beau. He was watching us both, his eyes blazing with an intensity I hadn’t seen since before the night in the hotel.
Despite the icy temperature, my body flamed.
“Let’s make the sculpture,” Clara announced, breaking the moment.