Total pages in book: 40
Estimated words: 36964 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 185(@200wpm)___ 148(@250wpm)___ 123(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 36964 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 185(@200wpm)___ 148(@250wpm)___ 123(@300wpm)
“Oh God, can we not use the f-word right now? My stomach is not happy. This child of yours is going to give me a run for my money.” Boston’s smirk has a different effect on my stomach. The nausea subsides, and in its place is a completely different sensation, one I’m going to blame on pregnancy hormones. I mean, why not?
EIGHT
Boston
Amelie gives me more of her weight, head tipping up a little bit more. I close the distance. Fuck, didn’t think this is where I’d be at this point in time. Can’t say I’m upset about it either. Our lips barely touch when I hear a noise. Isa will be here in no time; the heavy thuds of her feet along the staircase give us a forewarning. “No wonder you went board stiff when I talked about my boys and wanting kids. Seems my boys are already working in my favor.” Amelie doesn’t get a chance to reply with a witty comeback. I’m saved by her mom.
“Yoo-hoo, tea and toast at your service.” Her voice is chipper and cheerful. I’m unsure how one manages that state of being when only a short while ago, her husband tried to not only swindle me but also Isabelle. I’m now seeing where Amelie inherited her resilience from. Today has not been easy on any of us, less for me, way more so for them. I’m not losing money. My dad may be a dick, but at least he doesn’t attempt to hide his personality, unlike Noah Boudreaux.
We walk out of the bathroom. Isa doesn’t stop in her steps. The words she wants to say are written all over her face. An awe-like expression, happy that I’ve helped her girl. Since our sneaking around didn’t go unnoticed by Isa, I can only hope the other workers at the Inn didn’t see us. The only request Amelie had once we started seeing one another at night was to keep things quiet. It worked well for me. My brothers wouldn’t care who I’m seeing as long as I’m happy, but the same can’t be said for my father, who went so far as to tell me if I don’t move my ass back home to New York, I’ll be disowned from the family and my trust fund will be dissolved. The threat was just that—a threat. With his next move heading toward presidency, maybe this time, it will be for good. I’d like to say I’m upset, but he’s actually doing me a favor. Amelie has to know how pure and sweet her mother is. My own is absolutely not that way. She’s more a sheep, willingly following her husband, in essence having zero relationship with me because of it. Thank Christ our child will be in luck in having a grandmother like Isa.
“Hey, Mom. Thank you. I’m not sure I’ll be able to keep the toast down, but I’ll try the tea.” It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask if there’s caffeine in it but stop myself at the look Amelie is giving me behind her mother’s back.
“That’s fine. Maybe you’ll feel better after a nap. There’s probably some kind of virus running its course, or food poisoning? Wait, when’s the last time you ate out? You’ve been home a lot more recently, and no one else is sick, so it must be a virus.” I hold back my laughter, ready to make a remark that the only course running through Amelie’s system is my child, and it’s going to last for at least the first trimester, which I know thanks to the books Parker leaves lying around at his house, subtle hints he’s given Nessa he wants to start trying for a family. Never would I have thought I’d be a father before him. Life works in mysterious ways.
“Nope, I’ve been eating at home. Well, except for the beignets and café au lait the other day,” she replies while walking toward where her mother set the tray on the small table in the corner. Beside the table is a chair. Amelie rarely uses it, or she doesn’t when I’m here, preferring to sit outside on the small balcony, not caring if it’s one hundred plus degrees. She likes what she likes—sunshine and warmth.
“Hmm, well, I guess it’s a wait-and-see game. All the same, stay up here today. No need giving it to others in case it’s a virus.” Isa places her hand on Amelie’s cheek, then her forehead. “Call me if you need anything, though I’m sure Boston will handle things.”
“Alright. And, Mom, I can take care of myself. I’ve been sick before, you know.” I guess Amelie isn’t ready to tell her mom the truth yet. She’s going to have to soon. My plans include a fuck of a lot more than only being a father to our child.