Just a quick note to say that you may or may not need tissues for this one. Also, another early update. You're welcome ;)
Chapter Sixteen
Edward
"To Edward!" The small group cheers, gathered on the front lawn outside number thirteen, raising their plastic cups in the air.
I shake my head with a grin. Finally, finally, the house is complete. As everybody meanders inside with their drinks, clapping me on the back and pulling me into hugs on their way, I take a moment to just soak it all in. The hot August sun beats down on my back as I blow out a big breath, displacing my floppy mess of hair which is long overdue a cut, and think back to the run-down piece of crap I bought two years ago for a steal of a price.
Two long years, over twenty-six months of back-breaking, soul-destroying, frustrating-as-all-hell work later, I have a beautiful home fit for a family.
My family, I hope.
As if she knows I'm thinking of her, my phone lights up and rings with a familiar tone. My lips twist up into a bigger smile as I answer the call, my eyes moving over the plaque I mounted to the wall just a few minutes ago. "K, it's all done."
"What's done?"
Frowning, I move to rake a hand through my hair before realizing both my hands are occupied. "The house, K. The house is finished. It's all signed off and ready for us to move in."
"Oh, right, of course."
For a moment, nerves rush through my veins before confidence takes over. I know she's not a hundred percent sold on this move. She likes Utah too much to be as excited as I am about our fresh start, but it'll be worth it, she'll see. And it's not like Jackson Bay will be totally new to her; she's been out plenty of times. Her employers have been generous enough to allow her to work from home or on the road half the time so she can spend time with me, too, but that won't last forever, and besides, we're married. We should live together. The plan was always to wait until the house was ready and then Kate would move here so we can finally start our life together in one place.
So we can finally start a family.
I've always wanted kids. The more, the better. I've been wary the last couple of years, what with us living apart and the house still being a work in progress, but there's nothing stopping us now. Growing up as one of two kids in the house, I often wondered what it would be like to have more siblings. My best friend growing up, Alfie, is one of four kids and I was always a bit jealous of his loud, boisterous house.
This place, this house which will hopefully become our home right here on the beach, would be perfect for three or four kids. Three or four little Cullens Kate and I can teach to swim in the pool and watch grow up on the sand. I just need her to realize its potential, too.
Raking a hand through my hair and gazing at myself in the mirror, I swallow the roar of frustration threatening to tear my chest in two and breathe out a shaky sigh instead.
I was so foolish, my ideas of what life would be like, rose-tinted. Had I known then what I know now, I definitely wouldn't have been so cocksure or confident in my decisions up to that point.
I'll never regret the choices that brought me to Jackson Bay. I'll never regret marrying Kate or wasting years of my life with her. Those choices, those years, gave me the light of my life. I just didn't realize I'd be plunged into darkness so soon.
After spending too long staring at my reflection, I blow out a breath and leave the bathroom. In the kitchen, I find Bella.
Humming along to a tune only she can hear, she sways her hips and quietly stacks rinsed glasses on the rack to dry. Her long, pink-purple hair tumbles over her shoulders and back, the very ends teasing the curve of her ass. The flowy black skirt she pulled on when the sun dipped low dusts the hardwood and offsets the clean white of her off-the-shoulder shirt. Her clothes are bland in color, but her innate vibrancy bleeds into the atmosphere around her anyway.
My chest aches as I watch her, my eyes burning with a familiar threat. As a boy, I was taught that tears and emotion were for girls. 'Boys don't cry,' I was told. Not by my parents, but by society. People don't think that way so much now. It's more acceptable for men to show emotion, but it's still not something I'm completely comfortable with myself. I once prided myself on being a strong man.
But that was before I watched my whole world implode. The incessant ringing in my ears blares louder, every beep making my head pound, until—
"Hey, it's okay."
Soft hands cup my face, warmth brushing my chest. Bella slowly leans into me until her forehead bumps my sternum.
"I'm here, Edward," she whispers.
A shudder rushes down my spine as my trembling hands reach for her hips. I hold her too tight, but she doesn't complain. She simply holds me as memories rush through my mind on a loop. Today has been amazing. Family and friends gathered around, the kids making good use of the trampoline, then the boys falling asleep on me. There's nothing like that feeling of pride when a child trusts you enough to fall asleep on you, and Bella's boys had no qualms about crawling into my lap and pressing me to tell them stories about my childhood while they drifted off.
It's been...peaceful. Happy and full of smiles.
But now, in the quiet of the kitchen, nostalgia and loss rise in a debilitating tide of pain that spreads through my chest and pulls memories I've shoved to the back of my mind right to the front.
A wail, a spongy cord, bright green eyes.
Toothless smiles, sleepless nights, bright green eyes.
Neverending giggles, first teeth, first steps, first words, bright green eyes.
Trips to the beach, sandcastles and sandy kisses, bright green eyes.
A tiny backpack, matchy-matchy scrunchies and shoes, bright green eyes.
Those eyes...my eyes in a heart-shaped face. I'd begun to wonder if I'd ever see that, then she came along. The perfect little girl I'd been dreaming of with my grass-green gaze and her mom's sunny blonde curls. Those green eyes haunt me.
My heart thumps harder, a breathless curse escaping me, Bella's arms slipping around my waist to hold me together.
When she came along, I never thought I'd find myself saying 'goodbye' to her.
A forgotten promise, a frustrated phone call, a mad dash.
Forgiving grins, a grateful sigh, then the screech of brakes.
"I can't...Bella…"
"It's okay, Edward, it's okay."
It's not, though. This isn't okay. None of it is. These memories...I can usually keep them at bay. I have to, or this happens. This is why I run. This is why I hide from my thoughts and why I avoid spending too much time with other people. I'm not normal—not whole.
Normality slipped away from me six years ago along with my reason for breathing.
I need to forget. I need to not feel. Just for a little while. I need...
Pulling back slightly, I pour every ounce of my pain and need into Bella. Her lips hesitate before moving against mine, the taste of indecision strong.
Please, Bella. Give me this. Make me forget. Distract me, please.
I can feel the exact moment she surrenders. Her hands grip my shirt tighter, her kisses more purposeful. All the air rushes from the room, our breaths quickly becoming panted declarations.
You feel so good.
I need you.
Gripping the backs of her thighs, I hoist her feet off the ground and almost smile at her quiet squeak of surprise. She doesn't stop kissing me as I carry her out of the kitchen and down the hall.
Laying her out on the bed beneath me is a somewhat surreal experience. Her coy smile makes my stomach flip, but when she pulls her lower lip between her teeth and begins peeling her shirt over her stomach, I'm lost. Every inch of sun-kissed skin calls to me as it's revealed to my hungry gaze. Lifting herself a little to remove the shirt completely, she leaves me breathless.
"You're so beautiful," I breathe, lowering myself to taste her everywhere she'll let me. Sun-warmed and smelling faintly of whatever lotion she uses, Bella tastes of summer and sunshine. Her hands explore my shoulders as I lick, suck, and kiss across her stomach from hip to hip, pausing where the moonlight sneaking through the open drapes draws attention to her faded stretch marks. Reverent, I kiss those, too, smiling against her skin when she stutters a breathy moan.
My name.
It's my name this beautiful woman is gasping as I move up until my nose brushes the lacy cup of her bra. "Off," I murmur.
"Bossy," Bella huffs, but her lips are spread in a smile when I glance up with raised eyebrows. When the offending fabric is out of the way, I make sure to give each breast the attention it deserves. By the time I'm done, she's writhing under me and my dick is about ready to drill a hole in the bed.
"My turn."
I comply as she rolls me over onto my back, groaning when she removes her stretchy skirt in one smooth motion over her head and settles herself on top of me with a smirk, rolling her hips over mine. "Mean woman."
"Pot, meet Kettle," she whispers teasingly, slowly unbuttoning my shirt. As she moves lower, perching on my thighs, I remove it completely and toss it on the floor with her clothes. There's no doubt that the brush of her palm over my aching dick is anything but on purpose. I can't help but thrust up into her touch, not that she seems to mind. Her lip goes back between her teeth, and I never realized how hot I'd find that until now. "Someone's impatient."
"Yeah, well. Someone else has been sauntering around in indecent shorts and a tank top all afternoon," I grumble half-heartedly, lifting my hips so she can tug down my shorts and briefs.
The surprised, light peal of laughter Bella releases turns my ears red, but any embarrassment I feel evaporates into the heat of the room the second her eyes drop to the part of me that aches for her the most.
My own hunger is reflected right back at me in the flush of her cheeks and the darkening of her steel gaze.
Drunk on her, this sinfully gorgeous woman who apparently wants me as much as I want her, I can't wait any longer. Her panties give way with barely a tug; I catch her gasp in a desperate kiss and lift her hips, sliding into her hot, wet heat with a groan that she swallows and chases with one of her own.
Perfect. "You're perfect, Bella. Fffuck, so good."
Over and over and over I thrust into her, my eyes unable to stay in one spot for long.
Lit by the moon, her hair shines as it sways between us. Her breasts prove too much temptation to resist, her head tipping back and a sigh escaping into the air as my lips close around one tight nipple, then the other. I press a kiss to the tattoo that rests under her right breast—a tree with three small, blue birds resting in the branches, each a little different from the others. One for each of her boys. I didn't notice it the first time she stripped down to her bikini in front of me, but then I was busy trying to look like I wasn't gawking like a schoolboy seeing his first porn magazine.
Flipping her over so she's between me and the mattress, I catch her gaze for a moment before looking lower, her eyes too intense for me to handle right now.
It's the flush spreading over her chest and her panted "It's never been this good" that breaks me. My orgasm barrels down my spine way too quickly, my heart fit to burst clean out of my chest.
I'm relieved when Bella gasps that she's about to come a split-second before I can't hold myself up any longer, my eyes squeezed shut against the sudden onslaught of pleasure as my movements become jerky, my hips slamming against hers and my face burying itself in her hair.
~ oOo ~
Lightly trailing her fingertips over my chest, Bella gazes at me with a softness to her eyes I wasn't expecting.
Guilt quickly took the place of pleasure when sense returned and I realized I'd essentially used her as a distraction, but lying here now, with her understanding blanketing me and the soft glow of moonlight making her eyes shine silver, I feel nothing but peace. At least for the moment.
"Do you want to talk about it?" she finally whispers.
I want to scream 'no.' I want to run. I want to hide.
I just don't have the energy—the mental or physical energy. I'm not twenty-five anymore. And I want to let her in. I know that's what's holding her back. My inability to open up has pushed everyone away, but I want to keep her close. If sharing the absolute mess taking up space between my ears will accomplish that, I need to try.
"I don't know where to start," I murmur up at the ceiling.
"Try the beginning?"
I don't know if it's her gentle tone and gentler touch, the weightlessness of post-orgasm relief, or the cocoon-like ambience in the room, but I find myself wanting to talk.
Casting my mind back isn't something I do often, if I can help it. Memories tend to bring me more pain than comfort and regret is something that goes hand-in-hand with most of my memories. But this is Bella, and Bella isn't forcing me or putting any pressure on me to open up and spill all my raw emotions over the floor. I know she wouldn't be angry if I told her 'no.'
So, instead of pushing her away, I squeeze her to me and enjoy the relief that rushes through my veins when she shuffles even closer and wraps her arm around my waist, her head resting on my chest.
"I miss her," I croak. For a second, I wonder if she knows which 'her' I mean.
"I can't even imagine what it's like to lose a child," she admits, her arm tightening around me. Of course, she knows.
I turn my head, pressing my lips against her hair to breathe her in. "She'd love your boys."
"Oh, God…" Leaning up to look right into my soul with her eyes brimming with tears, she shakes her head and smiles shakily. "They'd adore Willow, Edward."
As usual, my daughter's name sends a spear of agony right through me.
"Have we got a name for this precious little one?"
I grin at the pink-wrapped bundle in my arms. I'm sure the doctor calls every baby 'precious,' but in this case, I'm inclined to agree with him. It's the morning after my daughter arrived and I'm more in love with her every second that passes. Glancing at Kate, who simply smiles tiredly, I breathe a content sigh and look at the doctor. "We do. Willow Belle Cullen."
Willow for me, because I love nature themed names. Belle for Kate's grandma, who passed when Kate was a little girl.
It's insane, because I know it's going to end in more heartache, but I let my mind conjure images of Willow running along the beach with her favorite yellow soccer ball, Bella's boys running behind her. It's easiest to picture her the age she was, but I try to see her as she would be now instead and find that she's blurry, out of focus.
"She would have been twelve this year."
Willow died nine days before Bella gave birth to Jaxson and Finley. She was just two weeks away from her sixth birthday, the same age the twins are now. I didn't really grasp that until this second. The realization makes my eyes burn. I can see her schooling the boys, her blonde curls tangling in the salty sea breeze and her bright green eyes alight with joy. She was always smiling, always. Willow would have loved Jaxson, Finley, and Arlo. They're all made of the same stuff—sweetness and mischief and a love of life all rolled into one.
That little girl, my little girl, she was my everything. My whole world in one petite little spitfire five-year-old.
A split second and an out-of-control car stole her from me.
A broken promise gave them the opportunity.
"It wasn't your fault, Edward."
Bella must see the flash of surprise in my eyes. She smiles humorlessly, stroking my cheek. I realize she was catching a fallen tear when she brushes another from the other cheek.
"It wasn't," she says again, firmer this time. "I can see the guilt all over your face. You didn't get in that car and you didn't make it swerve. You did everything you could."
The doctor said the same thing the day before Willow died. I didn't believe it then, and I don't believe it now. If I'd just been there...
"Sorry, one second. That's my wife's ringtone," I tell the contractor with a chuckle, setting down the upholstery catalogue to jog over to my phone on the bar. "K, what's up?"
Her agitated tone immediately has my back up, but her words have my heart falling to my feet. "I've just had a call from Willow's teacher. Why aren't you there to pick her up?"
"Shit, I'm sorry. I said I'd get her today, didn't I? I'll leave now, right this second. Is she okay?"
Kate huffs, and I can hear other voices in the background, but they're muffled. "She's fine, just...hurry up."
After apologizing to the contractor and promising to be back in twenty, I run out of Burger Co. to the Jeep parked right outside. Thankfully, Willow's kindergarten is only a few minutes away. Deciding we'll have time to grab an ice cream from Mrs. Paul's before we head back to the restaurant, I'm confident my princess will forgive me for running late. Honestly, with how busy we've been at Burger Co. the last couple of weeks, I'd completely forgotten that Kate was going to be in Jacksonville for work today and I was supposed to pick her up. I do the school drop-offs and pick-ups most days, so it's totally not like me to forget.
As I pull onto the side of the road by the school, I spot her. Dressed in the bright yellow sundress she picked out this morning, Willow waves like a mad thing and bounces in her red rain boots. The girl is adorable, but she has zero fashion sense. I love that about her.
"I'm sorry I'm late, Mrs. McKinney," I blurt out as soon as I'm close enough, the Jeep still idling in its spot behind me. "Time slipped away from me and I forgot my wife wouldn't be here."
Mrs. McKinney smiles, waving off my apology. "It's no problem, Mr. Cullen. Willow here is a great helper. We got the classroom all tidied up and squared away nice and neat for tomorrow, didn't we, sweetie?"
Beaming with pride, Willow nods and plays with one of her pigtails. They were a whole lot tidier when I did them this morning, that's for sure. At this point, I'm a pro at manhandling her curls into piggies, fishtail braids, and the like. "We did, Daddy. It's super tidy now."
"I bet. How about you come back to Burger Co. and help Daddy get that all tidy, too?" I ask her with a wink, grinning at her giggles.
"Sure thing, Daddy, but it'll cost you a choco chip shake!"
A chocolate chip shake is a lot easier than the inevitable twenty minutes we'll spend in Mrs. Paul's shop while Willow decides what toppings she wants. "Done and done. Run and jump in the car and we'll get you that shake."
"'Kay. Bye, Mrs. McKinney!"
I'm seconds behind her. Less than that, maybe. I pause to thank her teacher again and turn to follow Willow, but she's only in front of me for a second. I'll never forget the screech of brakes or the crunch of metal just as she climbs into the backseat and the car slams into the trunk.
"Hey, hey, it's okay. I've got you," I hear over the sounds of wheezing.
Bella crawls over me, rooting me to the bed with her warm weight and her soothing words. It takes a moment for me to realize that the struggle for breath is mine, the wheezing is me as I relive one of the worst days of my life.
~ oOo ~
Brushing a feather-soft kiss over Bella's forehead, I wait with baited breath to see if it will wake her. It doesn't. She sleeps soundly, her lips slightly curled in a smile.
Quietly, I leave her bedroom after writing a note to thank her for last night and a promise to call her later. Right now, I need some space to think.
The air outside is stiflingly hot, sweat almost immediately beading on my brow. Only once I've cranked up the A/C in the Jeep do I pull away from Bella's house, shooting one last glance at the little home that's been on my street since before I moved in, but never held more significance to me than it does now.
Instead of heading home, I keep driving until I find myself outside a familiar building. The light catches on the little array of multi-colored windmills that line the path up to the front door. With no breeze to make them turn, they stand still and bright in the early morning sun. A twitch of the curtains in the upstairs window barely registers as my mind spins to make up for the motionless windmills.
Remembering the accident, remembering Willow, has opened up the floodgates. Years of repressed memories have come rushing back. Years of smiles and laughter and joy, but also of confusion and pain. Of loss and betrayal.
My chest aches as words hurled and meant to hurt me replay on a loop.
"She's not even—"
"Edward?"
Muffled though it is, Kendra's voice is the proverbial bucket of ice cold water I need to pull myself back to the present. Her expressive blue eyes are narrowed as she taps on the window before motioning at the gate leading to her backyard.
"My office is unlocked and the Keurig is switched on. Help yourself and I'll join you in a few minutes."
Nodding stiffly, I watch her walk back up the path and into her house, belatedly realizing that she's dressed only in a robe, plaid pajamas, and bright purple slippers. Only Kendra.
It takes me a few minutes to gather myself enough to leave the Jeep and follow the familiar stepping stone path across the grass. The gate swings open with a soft squeak. Immediately, the soothing sounds of rushing water start to calm my frayed nerves. Not the sea, but the small koi pond in the corner of the yard. Inhaling a lungful of fresh air, I follow the stepping stones further into the yard until my feet reach the worn 'welcome' mat leading into Kendra's office. It's more of a shed than an actual building, really, and I have to bend and duck my head to avoid hitting it on the doorframe as I step inside. That's a mistake I made a few times too many when I first started coming here.
As promised, Kendra doesn't keep me waiting long. I've barely sat on the chair in the corner with a coffee in my hand, another on the small end table beside her usual seat, when she appears. She's dressed now, wearing a t-shirt, jeans, and sandals. She's the total opposite of what I expected from a grief counselor, not that I'd ever anticipated needing one until it became necessary.
"What's happened? I'm going to go out on a limb here and guess that something has, or you wouldn't be sitting outside my house at six-thirty on a Thursday morning."
"It's six-thirty?" I wonder, frowning at the still-rising sun through the porthole window. It's hot for so early in the morning, even by Florida standards.
"It was, when you arrived. It's seven now."
It could be ten seconds, but it could be ten minutes before she softly clears her throat and raises her eyebrows at me, her hands tented in her lap and her expression expectant.
Right. "I'm having trouble organizing my thoughts." Let's start with that.
Kendra nods slowly. "All right. How is that making you feel?"
"Confused..." I trail off, raking a hand through my hair. I realize my hand is trembling when a splash of hot coffee hits my leg. Setting it on the table beside Kendra's, I sigh. "It's...I don't know where to start."
"Try the beginning."
The narrowing of Kendra's eyes tells me she hasn't missed my flinch. Those were Bella's words, too.
"The beginning…" I whisper, shaking my head as my stomach twists and turns.
"Has something changed recently in your day-to-day life? We haven't seen each other for a few weeks. When you rescheduled your appointment, I guessed you were busy with the restaurant and decided to give you the month. I know this time of year is busy for you."
"It is," I agree, a sardonic smirk curling my lips. "I like being busy."
She smiles, too. "I know you do. It's one of the things I first noticed about you. Keeping your mind occupied is a coping mechanism you revert back to in times of stress or confusion."
It's something I hadn't really known about myself until she pointed it out, but it's obvious to me now.
There's something I do need to admit, though. "I didn't reschedule because I've been busy, although I have been busy."
Kendra simply nods, waiting patiently for me to continue.
"I rescheduled because I've…" met someone seems wrong somehow. I haven't just met Bella, and saying 'I've met someone' sounds like something I'd say if I'd started a new relationship.
That thought gives me pause. Truthfully, I haven't put much thought into what exactly it is growing between Bella and I, but labelling it isn't something I'm willing or ready to do right now. Not when my emotions are already wildly fluctuating and my equilibrium is so off-kilter. This train of thought reminds me of Bella's crestfallen expression when I admitted I don't know what we were doing at her parents' place the other day.
"You've…" Kendra prompts, reminding me of her presence.
Blowing a hard breath through my nose, I start at the beginning, like she suggested. "Bella moved back home."
It takes a moment or two, but I can see the moment Kendra's eyes light with recognition. I've spoken about Charlie and Renee a lot, and their children by extension, so Kendra will know the name.
"Bella Swan? Charlie and Renee's daughter?"
"Yes."
"That's wonderful! I'm sure they're very pleased." A few silent seconds pass, and her expression changes to one of contemplation. "Is Bella the catalyst for your struggles?"
Put that way, it sounds as though my inability to behave rationally in the face of my emotions is Bella's fault. I don't like it.
"No," I snap, immediately regretting it. "No," I say again, quieter this time. "She's been...good for me."
A smile tugs at the corners of my mouth as I think back on all she's brought to my life already, in a reasonably short space of time. Her boys, too. They make my heart hurt because they remind me of what I've lost, but they're a joy to be around. They're extensions of Bella's joy, her light. I've spent so long stumbling through the darkness of grief that any little ray of sunshine seems especially bright, but for the first time in years, I don't want to shy away from the sun.
I don't want to run from life.
"I'm glad to hear it. Were you friends before she left? Bella moved to England, didn't she?"
"Yes, and yes. We were friends before she went to England to study."
"And you've rekindled that friendship now she's back?"
And then some. Guilt and want war for power. This, whatever it is, between us...it has the potential to blow up in our faces. I can't imagine Charlie or Renee reacting positively to the news that their friend is less-than-innocent with their daughter. Though not as old as Charlie and Renee, I'm not as young as Bella, either—I'm somewhere in between. Bella is eleven years younger than me while Charlie is thirteen years older.
"Edward, can I make an observation?"
"Aren't you going to whether I agree or not?"
Kendra smirks. "Of course. But it would be nice to have your cooperation, and I know I won't get it if I don't ask your permission first."
"Have at it."
"I think Bella has come back into your life and has become a little more than a friend."
Hit the nail on the head, why don't you?
"I've never seen you so conflicted, so at war with yourself. When you thought of her just then, the confusion was all over your face. A friendship with a woman you've known for years and occasionally mentioned with nothing but affection wouldn't inspire those emotions in you, I don't think. Not unless something had changed."
"It has," I admit in a whisper, tugging at my hair again and shifting in my seat. "And it's complicated, she's a lot younger than me. But it's not that. I mean, I have concerns, but I…she got me to talk. About Willow."
It's funny really, that Kendra's expression remained carefully neutral when she guessed about Bella and I, yet her eyes widen and her mouth slackens for a beat when I admit that I spoke about my daughter.
"And how, um...how did that happen?"
Smiling despite myself, because Kendra is somebody who doesn't wear surprise well, I sigh. "I got overwhelmed, but she caught me before I could run."
Shortening the story for her sake and mine, I skip the part where I carried Bella to her bedroom to thoroughly distract myself before she managed to prise my thoughts from me with nothing more than her gentle touch and soft plea. Kendra comments in all the places she deems it necessary, commending me on holding it together long enough to share some of my memories with Bella. There's no stopping some of those soul-crushing days rushing back into my mind as I speak, the pain in my chest ratcheting up a notch.
"But she will wake up, won't she?"
The doctor's face is carefully blank, but the twitch of his lips gives him away. My knees soften, the wall at my back bracing me. "It's a waiting game, Mr. Cullen. We've done all we can, now we just have to wait. We can't ascertain exactly what damage has been caused unless she wakes up."
Unless. He said 'unless,' not 'until.'
And, three days later, 'unless' becomes a moot point. Willow doesn't, and won't ever, wake up.
"Edward, take a deep breath for me. That's it. In...and out. In through your nose, out through your mouth. There we go."
For the second time in twenty-four hours, I find myself being coached out of what I easily recognize as a panic attack. Kendra quietly counts out twenty deep breaths, praising me with a gentle smile when I open my eyes and croak my thanks.
"Don't thank me yet. I'm going to make this day worse before it gets better."
Fantastic.
Settling herself back in her seat, she folds her hands in her lap again and eyes me. "Are you all right?"
"Better." My breaths come easier with every passing second, but the familiar prickle of a fast-approaching headache stabs at my temples.
Of course, because my morning isn't heading into the toilet fast enough, the next words out of Kendra's mouth are, "I'd like to talk about your relationship with your ex-wife today, if that's all right."
Next chapter: Wednesday
My posting schedule may get a little wonky over the next two weeks or so. I have a few days off now, then I'll be doing 2am starts up until the day before Christmas Eve. You'll definitely still get your updates, but they may not be at the same times/the same days as usual. I'll try to keep to the schedule as much as possible. Also, side question: does it ever bother you if I post early? I have very limited self-control and I'm often tempted.
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