Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 45371 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 227(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45371 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 227(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
“How long have I been asleep?”
“An hour,” Dad says, reaching down with a smile and taking my hand.
I let him help me to my feet. “Where’s Archie?”
“He ran inside when Blake came home.”
“Wait… Blake’s home now?”
“He just got here.”
I think of the other times he’s returned home, coming to my room to find me at my desk, leaning down and kissing my neck. I rush to my bedroom. There he is, sitting on my bed with the book in his hand, Archie at his feet.
“These paintings are beautiful, Bonnie,” he says, and then he flips to the last page.
He reads the words I wrote.
I’m pregnant.
Looking up, his eyes glisten. His body trembles as he stands and walks toward me, looming like the giant he is… my man, my protector.
“This is the start of the rest of our lives,” he says, leaning down and kissing me.
EPILOGUE
SIX MONTHS LATER
Blake
“I don’t know why he likes it so much,” Bonnie says, laughing as she cradles her bump, our little boy.
We’re in the living room, the fire crackling, the windows dark and wintery. Cameron stands next to me, his bagpipe on his shoulder, looking much better than when this started. His cheeks are full, his smile comes easily, and we’ve been spending time together remembering the old memories and making new ones.
I smile at my woman as I lift my bagpipe. Pregnancy has made her so much more beautiful, the flush in her cheeks emphasized by the flickering fire. She’s got so much passion and love in the hand that rests on her belly.
“Anything yet?”
“No way,” she says. “He’s waiting for the music.”
“I can tell ye why he likes it so much, lassie,” Cameron says in a heavy Scottish accent. “This is the music of the gods.”
Bonnie laughs, the sound always lighting me up. Every smile and every gesture adds to the love, each moment more perfect than the last.
There’s still a beast in me in the bedroom. Her breasts have become so full, her sweet nipples so sensitive. She shivers and creams when I take them in my mouth. No, not here. I focus. But later…
We begin to play, going slowly and mournfully at first, and then picking up into heavy rhythms. Cameron is better than me, but we make something good between us.
“I told you,” Bonnie beams, her hand shifting as our little man kicks.
I stop playing, but Cameron keeps going alone, his instrument filling the room with deep tones. I place my hand against Bonnie’s belly, struggling to imagine a world where I went with my original plan. Grow old alone with no children and no love, but it never could’ve worked with anybody else.
“I love you,” I whisper, leaning down and kissing her bump, then placing my cheek against it.
Bonnie strokes her hand through my hair. “Are you letting him kick you in the face?”
I grin as our little man shifts some more. “I don’t mind.”
Archie walks into the light of the fire, stretching out, yawning, and then hopping up into my lap. He scrambles to get to the bump.
“Be nice, boy,” I tell him, standing up.
Archie gently perches on the arm of the chair, leans over, and licks Bonnie’s bump as our boy kicks. Bonnie giggles, and Archie turns, a big grin on his face.
“Well done, laddie,” Cameron says, cutting the music off. “You’re a fierce Scottish dog, aren’t ye?”
Bonnie and I share a long look. My wife, who looked so beautiful beneath the altar, the wedding dress flowing down her body, her wild, perfect hair flowing down her back, our love flowing through our hearts… endlessly.
Soon, our boy will be here to share in the love.
EPILOGUE
SIX YEARS LATER
Bonnie
I stand outside Ewan’s room, experiencing that wave of motherhood that sometimes feels like intoxication. It happens whenever they do something sweet or funny or anything—this growing feeling inside this is who I was meant to be.
There’s art on the walls, sketches of children and dogs from my business. I’m proud of what I’ve accomplished, of Blake for protecting the city, and of Dad for going overseas to volunteer with rescue dogs. Most of all, I’m proud of Ewan’s voice as he talks to his little sister.
“Which one do you want to be?”
“Lochness,” Aila says, her three-year-old voice gloriously mangling the word.
“That’s cool, sis.”
Ewan is so clever, speaking older than his age, with sharp eyes like his father. He’s got deep, dark red hair and a smile that reminds me of a photo I saw of Mom. I peer around the door, watching Ewan take Aila’s hand and guide it to the toy.
“I the monster,” Aila sings.
Ewan smiles down at her, broad for his age. Aila sits with her legs splayed, walking the green figurine up and down the carpet.
Ewan catches me looking and grins.
“What is Mommy going to be?”
I walk over to them, the sun shining through the window. It’s morning, and Aila often demands that her big brother plays with her before school. It’s the cutest thing ever how Ewan always says yes. He’s her hero.