Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 77043 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77043 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Though, yeah, Seth, I had a feeling the cool showers would be more of the hot-and-bothered variety.
It was insane to think, actually.
So soon after… everything.
That it was possible to have any sort of feelings regarding any man.
“And,” I said, trying to put even more enthusiasm into my voice. These kids had been through so much change lately; it was killing me to put them through more, even if I knew in my heart that it was the right choice. “I asked, and dogs are allowed,” I told them.
Sure, we had Rodney with us, but we weren’t allowed to. Which meant a clever system of dog carriers that looked like baby bags to get him in and out to go potty and a lot of keeping him busy so he never, ever barked.
Isaac nodded at that as Hazel put more ketchup on her food.
“It looks like there might be a yard too,” I added, and that got their attention.
Apartment living was harder than I expected with two active kids.
We made do with the parks, but there was nothing like being able to tell the kids to go outside and play for a little bit, to use their imaginations, and tire out their bodies. While mom got a teensy little break.
Well, as much of a break as you could get with a five-month-old in need of constant love and attention, I figured, as I raised Clara to my shoulder, and patted her back.
“I know you want to practice for baseball,” I said to Isaac, who’d been not so secretly wanting to join a team, but we’d moved to the area a little too late for this year.
I had no idea how I was going to swing all the things that cost money and came with sports, but I was going to make it work, damnit. He deserved the world.
And once I got that sorted out, Hazel was showing an interest in ballet. Which would cost even more. But, again, I was going to figure it out. I had to.
“Can we watch a movie before baths?” Hazel asked.
“Seeing as it is probably going to take two hours to get the water hot, yes,” I said, watching them run off to the bedroom as I got the baby wrap for Clara, then started to clean up dinner.
I ate the remainder of Hazel’s ketchup-laden pasta with a grimace, reminding myself that I was in no position to throw away food, no matter how gross it was.
There was some left in the pot, and I debated whether to eat it, or leave it for lunches the next day.
Worried it might hint at money troubles to them, even though I knew they weren’t quite at that level of rational thought, I went ahead and ate it and tried not to feel guilty about it.
Finished with that, I washed dishes, ran baths, and got kids ready for bed before another feeding session.
Unable to sit still, I sorted laundry that was piling sky-high thanks to my avoiding the task. Not because I hated it—though that was true as well—but because a part of me was actually scared to.
The laundry room was a windowless space in the basement with thick cinderblock walls, and I couldn’t help but think that the super could easily find me alone in there, close the door, and no one would hear a thing.
Paranoid? Maybe. But life had given me good reason to be.
I had my fingers crossed harder than was probably smart, given how very few things had been going in my favor lately, about the cottage.
When I was sure the kids were out and the baby would be quiet for a bit, I reached for my phone, finding the number in my pictures, then dialing it.
I went ahead and tried to claim that the way my heartbeat was thrumming and my belly was flip-flopping had everything to do with the hopes of getting this house, and nothing at all to do with the tall, dark, handsome man with stormy eyes on the other end of the phone.
“For the fourth time, Sully, I don’t want to lick whipped cream or chocolate sauce off some random woman’s stomach,” a sleepy voice answered, making a genuine smile split my face for the first time in what felt like forever.
“Really? Why not? That sounds like a good time,” I said, hearing the creak of the bed as he sat up, likely flipping on the light, and blinking at the brightness with sleepy eyes.
“Who is this?” he asked as I tried valiantly not to imagine him in his bed, likely shirtless—since I’d never known a man to actually sleep fully clothed—and what his half-naked body might look like.
“Lana,” I supplied. “Sorry, am I calling too late?” I asked, frowning at the clock. It was barely after ten. Which felt like a totally rational time for most adults still. Then again, I was a mom who stayed up after the kids went to bed just to have a little “me” time.