Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 85274 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85274 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
“Have you thought about what you want to do after the baby is born?” he asks.
“Like, if I want to work or stay home?” I cut the bananas and place them into the bowls.
“Yeah.”
“I’d like to stay home with him for a while.” Weighing my options is something I’ve given a lot of thought to. But ultimately, my decision came down to one thing. “I spent most of my life home alone,” I tell him while I open the containers of ice cream and scoop it out. “I don’t want that for my baby. If I didn’t have the money I have, if it was necessary for me to work, that would be one thing, but since I can afford to be at home, I want to be there for him. And if I do choose to go to the studio, I can always bring him with me.”
I glance up and find Lincoln smiling softly. “If you didn’t have the money, I’d make sure you could stay home.”
“Because your mom was a stay-at-home mom?” I guess, in a way she still is. Err, or is it a stay-at-home wife? She’s never worked a day in her life and seems to be content with that. She loves her life as a mom and a wife.
“No, if you wanted to work, I would support that decision too. But you’re telling me that what you really want is to stay home with our child, and I don’t care what it takes, I’ll always make sure you and our son have everything you guys want and need.”
His words cause me to choke up, and I look away, using the ice cream as an excuse to avoid eye contact. When I sniffle too loudly, Lincoln asks what’s wrong.
“I’m just glad I’m having this baby with you. I grew up around a lot of bad men and thought that’s how they all were, until I met you and Micah.” I sniffle back my tears. “You guys are a rare breed.”
Lincoln nods in understanding but thankfully lets it go by changing the subject. “So, you’re planning to stay home. What about the studio?”
“Oh, that doesn’t count as work,” I say, pouring the chocolate syrup on top. “Our son will grow up there with his cousins and aunt.” I look up at him. “And if you even think about giving me shit for planning to teach him how to dance...”
Lincoln raises his hands in surrender. “Never crossed my mind. I don’t care if our son wants to play football or dance or join the chess club. As long as he’s healthy and happy, I don’t give a shit what he does.”
“Good, then we’re on the same page.” I squirt the whipped cream on top and then hand him his bowl, sitting next to him.
We both take a bite, moaning in unison, which makes us both laugh.
“Now for the tough discussion,” he says, glancing over at me. “Baby names.”
“Ugh.” I take another bite of my food. “I’m going to need some more sugar in me before we go there.”
Lincoln laughs. We both take another bite. And that’s how we spend our evening. Talking and eating ice cream. It’s the most normal thing we’ve done, and it reminds me of when I was younger, when things between us were simple. Despite the age difference, I’d like to think we were friends. And more than anything, I miss that. Lincoln was always someone I could talk to, and my hope is that someday we can get back to that.
“Morning, sleepyhead.”
I drag my feet into the kitchen and plop onto the bar stool. “I think I have a hangover.”
Lincoln laughs. “I wouldn’t doubt it. I told you that third bowl was too much, but you didn’t listen.”
“Yeah, yeah. I need—” Before I can finish my sentence, Lincoln places a plate of eggs, toast, bacon, and fruit in front of me, along with a cup of coffee.
“Half decaf,” he explains, knowing I need and love my morning coffee, but since I’m pregnant, I now take it with only half the caffeine.
“Oh my God,” I groan at the sight and smell of the food and drink in front of me. “You are the best baby daddy ever.”
Lincoln barks out a laugh. “Remember that when I tell you what name I want for our son.”
“Nope,” I say, covering my ears. I read the biggest argument couples have is over the name of their baby, and since what you name your child is so important, I don’t want to mess this up. Take my name for example—Eliza, named after my psycho bio dad. Or London and Brooklyn, named after where their parents fell in love and renewed their vows. And so because naming our child is a really huge deal, I’m not ready to discuss it yet, even though Lincoln thinks he has the perfect name. I’m a mood reader, a mood dancer, a mood decision maker. If I’m not in the right mood, this name thing can go either way.