Pretend To Be Mine by C. Morgan

Author:C. Morgan [Morgan, C.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: BrixBaxter Publishing
Published: 2020-12-09T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 22

Rylen

Mona opened her front door on Saturday morning wearing an apron covered in little snowmen. Her short brown hair was held back off her face with a gold clip that matched her snowflake earrings. She was all smiles and a little breathless after running to answer the door.

“Hey,” she breathed. “Cora is just getting her stuff from her room. Want to come in? We have fresh cookies. I advise you avoid the ones with pink icing.”

“Cora’s?”

Mona gave me a knowing nod—the same nod we used to share to talk in secret when we were out at family functions or on triple dates that were going poorly for everyone but us. We’d laugh with each other on the drive home and pick up milkshakes if the food hadn’t been satisfying. Mona would always order a strawberry one with no whipped cream.

“It’s mostly all icing and no cookie,” Mona warned as she stepped back and let me inside.

We met up with Logan in the kitchen who was unceremoniously scraping copious amounts of pink icing off said cookies.

He grimaced as he dropped a huge dollop of it into the garbage can positioned underneath him and looked up. “Hey, man, don’t tell her I’m sabotaging her cookies. We want to send her home with some, but if she eats these, you’re going to have a sugar-high gremlin to contend with all day.”

“Thanks for looking out for me,” I said.

Mona held out a plate of cookies. I helped myself to one with blue icing. It wasn’t bad.

Little footsteps pounded down the staircase and I turned as Cora careened around the corner into the kitchen. Her smile was bigger than ever as I dropped to one knee and she leapt into my arms. I gave her a tight squeeze, kissed her cheeks until she descended into a fit of giggles, and took her school bag from her to put it over my shoulder.

“Hey, kiddo,” I said, poking playfully at her ribs. “I missed you.”

Logan hurried to hide the evidence that he was tweaking her cookies.

“Did you have a cookie?” Cora asked.

“I did. It was delicious.”

Cora turned to her mother. “Can I show Daddy my flower-girl dress?”

Mona nodded.

Logan stayed in the kitchen while the rest of us followed Cora down the hall to Mona’s in-home office at the back of the house. It boasted big bay windows and sheer white curtains. Her computer was off and her desk was covered in wedding related items: planners, calendars, invitations, seating charts, and magazine clippings.

Hanging in the open closet was a row of dresses. There were five powder-blue women’s dresses which I assumed were for the bridesmaids—women who used to be my friends too before the divorce—and a smaller dress, which was Cora’s. It was made of the same chiffon-like fabric. Mona pulled it down from the closet and held it out. Cora took the skirt and fluffed it up before running her fingers over the satin silver sash.

She spun to me excitedly. “I have matching blue shoes and flowers that go in my hair, too.

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