Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 91243 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91243 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Better not to message.
I’m curious what my mother thinks of all this, though. Of everyone in my family, she’s the one who most likely doesn’t miss me at all. We were never close growing up. I was unplanned, and I think she was done with kids after my brothers were grown. Dom was six when I showed up, and she probably was starting to picture life without constant little kid stuff to deal with.
Then I screwed all that up. I don’t think she ever forgave me.
Nothing I did was ever good enough. That’s such a cliché, but it’s the truth. I was never smart enough, pretty enough, girly enough. She wanted a princess, but she got me instead. Messy, silly, stubborn, and kind of mean. I’ve always done my best to make my family proud, but I still managed to screw it all up.
She probably thinks I deserve this.
Maybe she’s right.
The elevator doors ding. I shove the phone under the couch cushion, my heart hammering in my chest, as Mass comes storming into the apartment. He’s carrying a massive cardboard box, and it’s clearly heavy.
“What’s all that?” I ask as he comes over.
Mass tips it over and dumps the contents on the living room floor.
There are toys. Stuffies. Puzzles. So much little kid stuff, it’s hard to even fathom. More than Rosie ever had back home. Mass stands back, glaring down at the mess.
“Will this be enough?”
I kneel down beside the pile and pick up a Sandra Boynton board book. “She loves this one,” I say softly, flipping it open. “But we already have most of this in the nursery.”
He flinches. I instantly regret telling him that. All of this stuff is clearly very touching, and he tried his best to provide for my daughter. “I’ll take it away.”
“No, don’t do that.” I hold out a hand to stop him from gathering it all.
But he starts jamming it back into the box anyway. “I should have checked the nursery first.”
“You’re being nice. This is really good of you, Mass.”
“I don’t have siblings. I didn’t grow up around children. I don’t spend time with babies now.”
“It would be really weird if you did.”
“I don’t know how to be a father.”
I open my mouth to say, you’re not, but stop myself. I don’t even know why I keep it inside. Mass is clearly trying here, and it feels wrong to kick him while he’s down.
Rosie isn’t his daughter. She might be his biologically, but that’s all it’ll ever be. Especially if I can manage to escape with the help of whoever’s on the other end of that phone.
I’m still touched by this gesture, though.
“Nobody knows how to be a parent until they have to figure it out. You can probably imagine what it was like for me.”
“You seem good at it. You must’ve been a natural.”
I laugh at that and shake my head. “Not even close. Rosie was a nightmare delivery. Twelve hours of pushing. Her head was enormous.”
“Big girl,” Mass says, nodding to himself. “She’s a Cardone.”
“Then I had to learn how to breastfeed. How to change a diaper. How to pump and make a bottle. How to burp her and clean her when she spit up. All the stuff nobody teaches you.”
“What about your mother?”
“Mom couldn’t have given less of a shit.” I toss some of the toys back into the box with him but set a few aside. Pieces I know she’ll like. “I mean, she loves Rosie. Don’t get me wrong. But there was no pity in her, you know what I mean? Everything was utilitarian. She sure as hell wasn’t going to make my life any easier. She would watch Rosie, but only because she wanted to. Motherhood was mine to handle.”
Mass sits back and studies me. I try not to look at him. This is the most human he’s been since he brought me here, and I’m having trouble not thinking of him as a regular person instead of the monster I know he is.
“You could have used my help,” he says very softly.
I grimace. “You’re not her father.”
“Yes, I am. I should have kidnapped you sooner.”
I look up sharply. He’s smiling slightly, and I realize he’s joking.
“That’s an insane thing to say.”
“But I mean it. I missed too much time with you and Rosie. I should have made you mine sooner.” He stands suddenly. I get to my feet too, feeling small and strangely powerless down on the floor with him looming above me. “Where is she now?”
“Napping. Wait—”
He strides off and heads upstairs. “I’ll see her.”
“No, don’t do that. You might wake her up.”
“I can be very quiet.”
“Still, please, just let her be.”
“Is she a light sleeper?”
I pause and consider lying, but he can immediately tell I’m about to bullshit him. He keeps striding forward toward the nursery door.