Page 44 of Mr. Edwards
I hook into my food as he rounds the counter, grabbing a plastic bag off the sofa. “I bought this for you today.”
My eyes dart to him when he places the bag beside my plate. “What is it?” I ask.
“Open it and see.”
The food is quickly forgotten as I scoop it up, rummaging inside. Nobody ever buys me gifts.
I pull out a new pair of jeans, they have sparkly beads lining the pockets, and a matching tie that’s threaded through the belt loops. There’s also a white T-shirt in the bag that has a colorful butterfly on the front.
“You bought me clothes?” I ask, trying to contain myexhilaration. They still have the tags on them. I’ve never owned anything so beautiful before.
“I thought you’d want to look your best for your dad,” he replies with a shrug. “Maybe he’ll want to take you somewhere.”
“Take me somewhere? Like away from here?”
He must see the worry on my face because he quickly adds, “I mean for a meal or something like that.”
“Oh, right. Of course. I’d like that.” With my panic subsided, I leap off the stool, throwing my arms around his waist. “Thank you for my new clothes.”
He pats my back awkwardly. I’ve never hugged him before. When I release him, he clears his throat and takes a step back. “You’re umm… welcome,” he says, scratching the back of his head. I look down at the clothes still clutched in my hand in disbelief. “Finish your sandwich and then you can get changed in the bathroom. I’m going to head back downstairs. Come down when you’re ready.”
With that, he turns and heads toward the door that leads back to the gym. I’m glad he doesn’t turn around, because if he did, he’d see the tears that are now welling in my eyes. How did I get so lucky?
I descend the stairs adorned in my new clothes, and you wouldn’t be able to wipe the smile off my face if you tried. It’s the first time I remember ever wearing something new.
Reece’s lips turn up at the corners the moment he seesme, giving a subtle nod of approval. Michelle tells me I look beautiful.Nobody has ever told me I looked beautiful before.
“Girl, give me a twirl,” she encourages. I spin in a circle and notice a brush in her hand the moment I’m facing her again. “Want me to braid your hair?” She nods to the stool behind her desk and I climb up.
I wonder if Reece asked her to do that?
A lump rises to my throat as she runs the brush through the strands. My mom has never done anything like this for me.
“You have the most amazing hair, and don’t even get me started on your flawless skin.” I tuck my arms behind my back, sitting on my hands. She obviously hasn’t noticed the tiny round burn marks marring my skin. After securing the hair tie, she grabs her handbag from under the desk, rummaging through it. “Pucker up,” she says, holding up a tube of pink lip gloss.
It’s the first time I’ve ever worn makeup. I’ve watched Roxy apply hers countless times, and I’ve been tempted to try it on when she’s not home, but she’d kill me if she found out I was using her stuff.
Could this day get any better?I feel like Cinderella. I only hope my father will be able to recognize me when he arrives. If I was to look in a mirror right now, I probably wouldn’t know myself.
“I’d kill for your lips.”
What?
She must see the horror on my face because she quickly adds, “They’re so full, women pay big money to achieve what you have naturally.” I give her a small smile because I still don’t understand what she’s trying to say. “There you go, perfect. You’re going to break some hearts when you grow up, Miss Carlee.”
I smile at her words, even though I’m unsure what she means. I know what heartache feels like, and I’d never want to inflict that kind of pain on anyone else.
“You ready, killer?” Reece asks, coming to stand beside me.
I look up at the clock on the wall. “So ready. Thank you for letting me meet him here.”
He should arrive anytime now. I told him I’d be here around four and it’s almost half past.
“Don’t sweat it, kid.”
I take a seat on one of the chairs adjacent to the reception desk, my legs swinging nervously back and forth as I wait. I have a perfect view of the entrance from here.
My eyes keep glancing toward the front door… the longer I wait the more edgy I become.
Table of Contents
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- Page 44 (reading here)
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