Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 94687 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94687 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
But that wasn’t unusual. For a guy who’d originally claimed he “wasn’t good at that stuff,” Tyler was beyond chivalrous—always opening doors for me, pulling out my chair at restaurants, never even letting me look at a bill let alone pay one. Some people might have found all that too old-fashioned, but not me. Because it didn’t come along with any outdated bullshit about women being inferior to men. Sure, he loved it when I cooked dinner for him, but he liked cooking for me too.
And if I had to put up with the occasional ego trip or how loud he got while watching sports (especially if Mack or Noah was over, my God) or his leaving the cap off the toothpaste again, it was a small price to pay for how happy he made me. I grabbed my phone off the dresser in our bedroom—our bedroom, that was just bananas—and hurried down the stairs.
The view from our huge picture windows never failed to leave me breathless and shaking my head with wonder. It wasn’t directly on the bay, but it was close enough that we could see it from our perch in the trees. It had everything else that Tyler had wanted—privacy, luxury, plenty of space, and it was close enough to Cloverleigh that it was convenient for me to stay over.
He’d asked me to move in almost immediately. I was still trying not to rush things, but damn, he made it difficult. I’d never forget the July night he brought a blanket out onto the deck and we lay on it looking up at the stars.
“Remind you of anything?” he’d asked, rolling onto his side and propping his head on his hand.
“Of course it does.” I looked at him and grinned. “Do you remember your line?”
“I’ve got a better one.” He reached out and slipped his hand into my hair, but this time, instead of come here, what he said was, “I love you. And I never want you to leave. Stay with me.”
I’d moved in the following day.
I hurried through the kitchen and out to the garage, where I jumped into my car and hit the button on the remote to open the door. I was about to back out when I heard my phone ping with a text.
Tyler: I’m not at the track. Meet me at the ballfield.
Me: Okay!
Smiling, I put my car in reverse. Lately, Tyler had been throwing again. Not in public—he wouldn’t even let me watch him—so he always had to go super early in the morning or very late at night and just pitch balls at the backstop, but it felt like progress to me. Whenever I asked how it had gone, he’d have a different answer.
“Fucking great,” he’d say one day, the old grin on his face.
“Don’t ask,” he’d say the next.
I’d give him a kiss either way and tell him I was proud.
I left our gated neighborhood and drove over to the high school. Tyler’s was the only car in the lot—not surprising, since it was barely seven a.m. on a Saturday morning. I was about to get out of the car when my phone pinged again.
Chip: Happy birthday!
I smiled, deciding to take a minute and text him back. I knew Tyler would understand.
Me: Thanks! How’s everything going? Why are you up so early???
Chip: Haha good. I’m about to go work out.
Me: How’d the econ test go?
Chip: Don’t ask.
I grinned.
Me: How about the essay for Freshman Comp?
Chip: A
Me: That’s awesome. Have a good weekend!
Chip: You too. Say hi to Tyler for me. Can’t believe his battery is dead.
Me: OMG I know. Thanks for the birthday text!
As I got out of the car, it struck me as a little odd that he knew about the dead battery already. Had Tyler texted him too? It was possible, since they were in touch all the time, and we couldn’t wait to see him when he came home for Thanksgiving next month. We were also looking forward to going down to Clemson for some baseball games next spring.
For the millionth time, I marveled at how our plan to handle the media where Chip was concerned had worked. Tyler had been right—getting out ahead was key. And Robin’s idea to make it a positive story about adoption had been brilliant. For the first time in my life, this thing that I’d kept in the dark was thrust into the spotlight, but it felt good. Social media had jumped on the positivity of it, and we’d been astonished with all the incredible feedback. Tons of people had reached out to us, coming forward with their own stories, saying we’d given them the courage to decide on adoption, or reach out to a birth parent, or stop seeing their own adoption as a rejection and start seeing it as a decision made from love. Even Bethany Bloomstar reached out with an apology and an offer to make things right with a more positive story.