Read Hungry for More (2012) for Free Online Page B

and called for a cab.  She had ten minutes to kill until it arrived. She drummed her fingers on her thigh and eyed the bag that contained her stash of food. It was English biscuits and sweets mostly, but there were also some chips and dip. She kept a considerable stock. One humiliating day when Phoebe had caught her with them she had had to tell her boss that the only cost - effective way to get them in America was to order in bulk.
    Bridget’s stomach rumbled hungrily.  Perhaps she could just have one biscuit, she bargained with herself.  She hadn’t eaten for more than a day after all.  One biscuit wasn’t going to hurt. She had to start up her metabolism if she wanted to lose any weight at all.  Really, it would benefit her to have one biscuit.
    Bridget didn’t remember opening the bag, but she was suddenly sitting with a packet of chocolate Hobnobs in her hand.  Her breath quickened a little as she anticipated the first bite of sweet chocolate and oat biscuit.  She ripped the packet open and portioned out one biscuit, already knowing that she would eat at least two.  Two turned into four, and four into half the packet… two thirds of the packet… it was silly to repack so few biscuits, so she decided to polish them off.
    Utterly disgusted with herself, and on the verge of tears, Bridget decided that the damage was already done. Even though she was no longer hungry, she started on a bag of Fritos.
    She was near the bottom of the bag when the buzzer sounded, informing her that the cab was downstairs.
    Bridget crumpled the cellophane bag, crammed it into the trash, and then wiped her greasy fingers on a rag. She felt sick to her stomach and absolutely disgusted by what she’d done, but there was no way to undo the damage. She simply pledged to do better.
    Gathering the shreds of her dignity, Bridget dabbed her eyes, and then began the task of lugging her baggage down to the waiting car.
    Despite her promises to Paul, Bridget was gone for close to an hour and a half. She had taken a bit longer at the apartment than she’d intended, and then her taxi was stuck in traffic on the way back Uptown. She was feeling very anxious as they neared the apartment- and even more so when she stepped inside and discovered Tad watching videos alone.
    “Where is your father?” she asked, a little more sharply than she’d intended.
    Tad didn’t turn around. “In the kitchen,” he told her as his eyes remained glued to the screen.
    Bridget exhaled. She supposed that was permissible- although, she wondered if Paul could hear Tad’s call over the din of the cartoon.
    “Mr. Devoe?” she asked, testing her theory.
    As she expected, he didn’t answer. Then again, he didn’t seem to notice when she repeated her call while standing five feet behind him either. He was standing over the stove, absolutely intent on his cooking- and otherwise oblivious to the world.
    She actually had to tap him on the shoulder to make him turn around. When he did, he blinked in surprise like a man coming out of a trance.
    “I’m sorry to bother you,” she murmured, taking a step away. “I just wanted to let you know that I’m back.”
    “Already?” Paul asked.
    Bridget nodded at the clock, and his expression turned sheepish. “Oh.”
    “Yes. I’m sorry that I was delayed. The traffic…” her excuse died on her lips when Paul turned around to the stove again. “Right. Well…it seems like everything went okay?”
    “It was fine,” Paul responded. “Tad’s just been watching TV.” Paul reached for a plate, which he covered with an amazing looking sandwich and then topped it with a lid to keep it warm. “He said that he was hungry. It’s a bit early, but he didn’t eat much breakfast.”
    Bridget nodded. She was beginning to suspect that the cooking was more for Paul’s benefit than for his son ’s . The practice obviously soothed him, and it was the one area of parenting in which he was more than competent.
    “Shall I call