Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 79599 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79599 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
“I don’t know, man. I’ve just got the touch,” I tell him. “Besides, she’s a girl. It’s in her nature to give her daddy hell.”
“Fuck off,” he mutters. “That shit ain’t supposed to happen until she’s a teenager.”
I can’t help but grin. In all the years I’ve known Miller Cain, he has always been a cocky, egotistical bastard. But now for the first time in his life, the fucker has no clue, and that knowledge alone makes me the happiest bastard that ever lived.
Mia wakes up shortly after, and I smirk as I watch Miller’s face fall. It’s clear that he’s desperately in love with this little girl, but watching him work out how to parent is fucking hilarious. Though I have no doubt that in a few months, the roles will be reversed and it’ll be him with a cocky smirk, watching me make every mistake under the sun.
“Fuck,” Miller grunts as he goes to get Mia out of the bassinet. As he walks back into the living room, he holds her up and cuddles her into his chest, trying to soothe her cries.
Double-checking the time, I realize she’s woken up right on time to stick to her mother’s carefully constructed schedule. “Dani’s schedule says she’s ready for a bottle,” I remind him as he tries to rock and sooth the baby.
His eyes widen, realizing she’s hungry, and like clockwork, she turns into a screaming banshee. Not wanting her to wait for her food a second longer than necessary, Miller passes her to me before running into the kitchen and preparing her bottle.
I look down at the screaming baby in my arms and swallow hard.
Well, shit.
Not knowing what to do, I stand and start walking circles around the coffee table, gently bouncing her while patting her back. “Come on, kid. It’s coming,” I say, practically begging her to stop, my boosted ego quickly starting to deflate. Maybe this shit is harder than I thought.
Miller returns a moment later and takes Mia out of my hands before dropping down on the couch. He settles her into his arms and quickly slips the bottle into her waiting mouth, instantly calming her. I watch with wide eyes at just how quickly she knocks that bottle back.
“Fuck, man. I don’t know how Dani does this,” Miller says as he watches his little girl down her bottle like a pro. “I’m always fucking training and she’s left here to work all this out.”
“Yeah, I get it,” I tell him. “It’ll be exactly the same for me and Soph when our little man arrives. You just gotta figure out what works for your family and be there to do your part,” I say with a shrug. “I don’t know, I guess my kid isn’t here yet so I can’t exactly offer any advice. But the way I see it, you should think of it like a game plan.”
“Huh?” he grunts, clearly confused.
“You know, you have a game plan on the ice. Just apply that same principle to Mia. Think of her schedule as a challenge. You get through the whole thing with no fuck ups, you win. She gets the best of you, she wins. Then you do it all over the next day and make sure you do it better.”
“Hmm,” he muses to himself, clearly thinking it over before he starts to nod. “I like it.”
Mia polishes off her bottle, and he raises her up to face him, Lion King style. “Hear that, Mia? From now on, I’m making your schedule my bitch.”
I roll my eyes, unable to resist grinning at the idiot. I watch as he stands and places her up on his shoulder. His hand gently rubs at her back and precisely two seconds later, she comes out with the loudest burp followed by a projectile vomit that drops straight down his back, splattering against the couch and floor with a wet slap.
“Fuck,” Miller grunts as he stands before me, dripping in vomit with a very satisfied Mia in his arms.
I crack into booming laughter as he hands her over to me and tries to peel his shirt off without slathering it over his face. “Dude, I think she won this round,” I say, smiling down at Mia as her father drops to his knees, using his soiled shirt to mop up the milky puddles on the couch and floor.
That will be me in a few months.
“No shit,” Miller mutters under his breath.
Mia reaches up and places her tiny hand on my face, and I can’t help but smile at the little she-devil, realizing just how ready I am for my son to come along.
Finding a playmat on the floor, I lay her down before adding a few toys to stimulate her. I watch as Miller finds some proper cleaning tools and gets to work on the mess. “How’s Sophie doing with everything?” Miller asks, shoving the couch back to make sure nothing has spilled underneath.