Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 88718 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 444(@200wpm)___ 355(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88718 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 444(@200wpm)___ 355(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
“Got you another,” Chase says, handing me a beer and taking the lounge chair next to mine. “We’re going to need to add on,” he says, reading my mind.
“Yeah. Couple of bedrooms, at least.”
“I think we need to expand this patio too. That way, we can add more chairs and maybe a covered area to keep the babies out of the sun.”
“You already thinking about more?” I ask him. I’m not giving him shit. I really want to know. Having another has been on my mind a lot lately. My wife growing round with our baby is a new fantasy of mine. One, I can’t wait to make a reality.
“Yes.” There is no hesitation in his answer.
I glance over at him, and he’s smiling as he watches his wife and newborn daughter. I know that look, and the feeling deep in his chest all too well. Hollis might not have given birth to Milo, but in every other way, she is his mother. The week after our tropical honeymoon in Costa Rica, we started the process for her to legally adopt him. That night she cried herself to sleep in my arms. I hated to see her tears, but they weren’t from pain or heartache, no, they were from happiness.
“What about you?”
“Every fucking day,” I admit, placing my bottle to my lips and taking a long pull.
“You know how that works, right? You need some pointers, big brother?” He smirks.
“Nah, I’m all good. Thanks,” I say, shaking my head.
“I wish Mom and Dad could have been here.”
“Me too, but it’s better that they already had that cruise planned. Where would everyone have slept?”
“Good point. We need at least two more bedrooms. One smaller and maybe a huge one with a few sets of bunk beds for the kids.”
“How many are we talking?” I ask him.
“As many as she’ll give me. You?”
“That about sums it up,” I say, making him laugh. Our laughter captures our wives’ attention, and they stop their conversation to look at us. They’re both smiling with babies in their arms.
“Dada.” Milo points to me and wiggles in Hollis’s arms.
“No, sweetie. You can’t crawl on this concrete. It will hurt your knees,” she explains. Well, she tries to explain. He doesn’t understand and couldn’t care less. He wants to see his daddy.
That’s me, Daddy, and seeing his little hands reaching for me as he calls for me, has me on my feet and moving toward them. “Come here, little man.” I scoop him up into my arms, and he giggles when I blow a raspberry on his bare Buddha belly.
“I was trying to get him down for a nap,” Hollis tells me.
“You giving Mommy a hard time?” I ask my son.
“Mama.” He reaches his arms out to go back to Hollis.
“Oh, no, you don’t,” I tell him. “What do you say, you and I go inside and change your diaper, grab a bottle, and rock a little?”
“And this one,” Chase says from behind me. I turn to watch him take a sleeping Ella from Gabby’s arms. “Is going to go lie down as well. We’ll stay inside with the kids. You ladies enjoy your break.”
“And to what do we owe this occasion?” Gabby asks.
“You did all the work,” Chase says, glancing down at his daughter. “And I’m hoping I can convince you to do it again and again, so it’s my job to make sure you’re taken care of.”
Gabby physically relaxes at his words, and the smile playing on her lips tells me that my brother definitely knows how to woo his wife and how to have her melting at his words.
“And what’s your excuse?” Hollis teases.
“Maybe if you’re well-rested, we can work on baby number two,” I say, tossing her a wink. I turn to head inside, but not before catching her shocked expression. Take that, Chase. You’re not the only Callahan who can turn their wife into a puddle of sweet sticky goo when it comes to hitting them with all the feels.
Inside, I grab a bottle and Milo’s favorite blanket. It’s a fail-safe, and once he’s snuggled up with his belly full, he falls right to sleep. Getting settled in the rocking chair that my parents brought up here a few weeks ago, I settle Milo into the crook of my arm and offer him his bottle. He takes it greedily as he always does. With practiced skill, I tuck the blanket up around his face. The soft plush material against his skin already has him closing his eyes.
“Damn, I need to start that,” Chase says, sitting on the couch. He reaches over on the couch and grabs a small pink plush blanket, and places it over Ella, who’s sleeping on his chest. “It’s chilly in here anyway, right? With the air conditioning?”
“Yes, and can you believe Mom and Dad installed air conditioning? We couldn’t even get a working TV when we were kids. Now, they’re flipping out that the house might be too hot for their grandbabies.”