Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 129084 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 645(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129084 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 645(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
“Great stream,” she says. “That’s what Maxwell means.” I pull back, allowing what she just said to sink in. “I wasn’t sure why I loved that part so much. It just spoke to me, but now I know. It was meant to be.”
Under her kiss and living in those two words, my life just changed forever. “Great stream,” I say. My son. Maxwell Noah.
17
Liv
The sun breaks through the cracks of the curtains like a spotlight shining in my eyes. I grumble, rolling over in hopes of finding sleep again. Then I open them again only to realize I’m alone in bed.
Hurt. Disappointment. My emotions run the gamut of betrayal.
Should I have expected it? I didn’t. I didn’t see it coming after how we ended our night. Noah and I talked for an hour before we decided he should stay and sleep here. What was I going to do? Kick him out? No. We were on good terms, understanding where the other one was coming from, and made a new agreement to keep things the same for now.
Whether it’s right or wrong to have feelings when it comes to him, I wanted him to stay. I like his warmth. Fine . . . I roll my eyes at myself. I like him.
We didn’t make love again, choosing to talk until we fell asleep. It was so late that I started thinking the sun would rise before we closed our eyes, but the moon kept us company, the dark remaining a bit longer.
I’m surprised to find him gone so early. I look at the clock on my nightstand. 9:13 a.m. A sigh escapes only a second before—Oh my God!
My heart starts racing when I realize I overslept. That’s not something I’ve done in more than a year. I flip the covers off and jump to my feet. Grabbing my robe, I swing my arms into the sleeves as I rush toward Maxwell’s room. I don’t hear anything from inside, which exacerbates my anxiety. Opening the door, I’m not greeted with the usual squeal and happiness, clappy hands and bouncing when he sees me. My heart stops and drops to the pit of my stomach when I find the empty crib.
Noah.
I push off the doorframe and run into my bedroom to grab my phone. With the phone pressed to my ear, I listen to it ring as I pace the floor. “Hello?” he says as if all is well in the world. Not mine.
“Where is Maxwell?”
“He’s okay.” I swear to God he chuckles. “He’s eating.”
“What? No. No.” Oh God, what is he feeding my baby? “What is he eating?”
“Well, he requested a strawberry frosted cake donut, a large Americano, and a Denver omelet. It’s impressive. The kid can eat.”
“No,” I say unable to control my anger. I shove my hand high against the wall, ducking my head to say, “That’s not what he eats. Cassandra makes his food.”
He chuckles. “Not today.” He freaking laughs again.
I’m about to blow a blood vessel. “Noah, stop him. He can’t eat that.”
“Why not?”
“Because he eats pureed cantaloupe with a dash of beets for fun coloring and extra nutrition, a soft homemade oat bar with brown sugar and cinnamon, and a sippy cup of milk on Saturday mornings. And when Cassandra has time, she gets the peaches fresh from the peach truck on certain weekends. He loves peaches.”
“He looks to be loving donuts right now. Just sayin’.”
Donuts? I pace the floor, trying to cool my anger, but it reaches my cheeks, setting them on fire. I rest the back of my hand on my forehead, trying not to think about the sugar coursing through Maxwell’s veins. I could scream. Damn him. “Do you not understand? He’ll be bouncing off the walls.” God, I could rip Noah Westcott apart right now. I fist my hand, flex, fist, flex while squeezing my phone tightly in the other. “What have you done? Where have you taken him?”
“You’re overreact—”
“Don’t you dare say it.” Knowing him the little I do, I bet it’s sitting on the tip of his tongue. “Noah,” I warn.
“Liv?”
He’s infuriating.
Irredeemable.
Downright cruel for pulling this stunt. “You took him when I was sleeping.”
“We’re in the—”
“How do you think that made me feel? And dammit . . .” He knows exactly what he’s doing. Well, he can push my buttons all he wants, but he won’t win this round. “You can’t just take him whenever and wherever you want, Noah.” I move to the edge of the bed and sit to keep myself from flying off the handle. It’s not working.
“Calm down, Liv.”
“Nothing calms a woman down faster than being told to calm down,” I snap, sarcasm dripping from my lips. “Maxwell has a routine.”
He huffs. He freaking dares to huff like I’m the one in the wrong. “I wanted to spend time with him. And believe it or not, I wanted to let you sleep in. I figured it’s been a while. He’s great. Eating like a champ. We’re bonding. Maybe this can be a new routine. Spending time with me on Saturday mornings.”