Tequila Rose Willow Winters (best free e reader txt) 📖

“Okay so, date this Friday. Sailing on Sunday.” Done and done.

“Yeah and you need to get dressed because we have a meeting in an hour for the permits.”

“Who’s the meeting with?” I ask.

“Some guy close to your age, so I’m thinking he’ll be able to pull some strings to get this bar open. Sam said he’s a friend of Magnolia’s too.”

Magnolia

Two and a half years ago

“There’s money on the counter,” I tell Robert with tears in my eyes, leaving the front door wide open as I cover my face and turn my back to him. Bridget won’t stop crying. Every moment she wails, my heart breaks more and more. She cries almost every night around eight and I don’t understand why. There are no teeth coming in, she already had a full bottle, and all her naps have been right on schedule. She cuddles when I hold her but still she doesn’t stop.

The baby app tells me it’s the witching hour. I just want it to stop. My hands tremble when I reach down for her, picking her up out of the pack and play and shushing her even though the white noise machine is on full blast.

“It’s okay, little one,” I whisper but my poor baby can’t hear it anyway over her cries.

“I don’t know what I’m doing wrong,” I say and breathe out in frustration with tears streaming down my face. I don’t know that Robert’s heard me until his hand comes down on my shoulder. It honestly startles me. Maybe because I’m exhausted, maybe because I’ve been alone in this apartment for three days straight, maybe because I feel like I’m going to pass out after lying next to the pack and play for the last half an hour crying right along with Bridget.

“You all right?” he asks and I burst into a laugh that’s not a laugh, right before letting out the ugliest sob imaginable.

“This is not your problem,” is all I can tell him. “The rent is on the counter,” I point out again. That’s what he came for. The settlement money I was counting on receiving from my father’s estate is being held up and I don’t know how I’m going to pay next month’s bills if that last property doesn’t sell, or if they have to take that money to pay off more debts my father lied about.

“I’m still your friend, Mags. I’m still here for you,” he says and his tone is kind, the same as it has been for the last year. Through the pregnancy, through the first weeks after I became the town pariah. He may have left my heart broken, but I’ll be darned if he hasn’t tried to help me pick up the pieces.

Part of me is grateful for that; part is still angry. And a big part of me wants him to put the pieces back together and hold on to everything. Oh, Lord, the tears are coming back.

“My world is a mess and I don’t know what to do.” My inhale is staggered and I have to sit down to try to calm myself, but Bridget’s screams get louder so I shoot back up.

“Okay, you’re doing good, Mags,” he says, but his encouragement doesn’t help.

“I’m a bad mom,” I say, whispering the painful words aloud and then heave in a breath. “I can’t help her and I don’t know why she’s crying. I have no idea.”

“You’re a good mom.” Robert makes the statement as if it’s fact. “The bad moms don’t even wonder if they’re doing a good job.” No one’s ever told me that. No one’s told me I’m a good mom and I nearly burst into tears again, matching my little girl who’s still screaming in my ear.

“She won’t stop and I don’t know what’s wrong.” My words come out like a plea. I would give anything if she’d just stop crying.

“Sometimes they cry. I’m pretty sure it’s like a baby’s checklist,” he tries to joke and I would roll my eyes but something magical happens.

Bridget seems to take an interest in Robert when he talks. Her cry is hesitant and he picks up a piece of paper, waving it in front of her face. Mimicking a child’s voice, he says, “I heard that wittle babies like a wittle wind in their wittle faces.”

I let out a laugh, but more than that, a breath of relief. Bridget’s head falls back and she shuts her eyes, letting the breeze blow against her face.

Breathlessly, I beg Robert, “Don’t stop.”

He laughs and continues to wave the paper just above her little three-month-old noggin. “Never thought I’d hear you say that again,” he says with a handsome smile.

I let out a small laugh, continuing to bounce my baby girl and I’m grateful for the quiet. Is it that simple? Just a little wind in her face. Probably not, I think. Tomorrow’s another day, but it’ll pass. It won’t be like this for long.

“It’s just a phase,” I say, reminding myself of what the doctor said.

“And you’re a good mom,” Robert adds. With a small smile, I meet his kind gaze. “I mean it, Mags. You’re doing such a wonderful job.”

I wish we could go back. I wish I could change so much. But more than that, I wish I could have him tell me that every time I feel like I’m failing her. I just want to be a good mom to my Bridget. And I wish Robert would stay, but he doesn’t.

Present day

“I don’t want to influence you.” As she speaks, Renee has both of her hands up, doing her best impression of a bank teller during a robbery.

I could huff and