Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 29018 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 145(@200wpm)___ 116(@250wpm)___ 97(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 29018 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 145(@200wpm)___ 116(@250wpm)___ 97(@300wpm)
“Dad, we’re home!” Henz announces the instant they cross the threshold forcing me to hide the evidence under the southern living cooking recipe book I borrowed from Maggie last weekend.
We get along really well nowadays. After we buried the hatchet, things stayed buried. She realized she had her own shit she needed to cope with and my refusal to accept not contributing monetarily to the life Jaye and I built seemed to ease whatever woes remained. It was obvious she wanted someone in her daughter’s life who was going to add value. And I did. Emotionally and physically and mentally. And now? Financially as well. Clearly, she still has the billions – given that she’s made some great investments over the years – but we both pay for our unified life so to speak. We have a joint bank account we started once we got married. Almost all of our money that effects our family goes into it.
“In here!” I answer back, turning the crockpot down to a simmer.
My two daughters come rushing into the kitchen, arms enveloping me the second I’m lowered to make myself more accessible. They lovingly throw themselves into the hug as I do the same, thankful to have them.
Their mother.
A family.
And it’s so much bigger than I could’ve ever fucking dreamed. Between the Danes – yeah Dane is his last name – the McCoys, the Collinses, the Lucases – Henz’s Godparents we met through recommended group therapy for Vets – the Colemans, Jaye’s parents, and Chris’s parents, the girls nor I are shy of people who love us. Who want us in their lives. Yeah. Even all these years later it’s still a hard concept for me to grasp at times. But you know what? Doesn’t make me any less fucking grateful.
The girls each plant a kiss on my cheek causing the grin on my face to grow even wider.
“You ate Mom’s cookies,” Rainne, my eldest and sassiest scolds. “You’re not supposed to eat those before dinner, Dad.”
“They needed to be tested,” I casually fib at the same time I rise to my feet. “To ensure they’re the right match for Santa. You know what type we’re leaving him this year is still up for debate.”
“Santa eats all kinds though!” Henz informs while following her sister over to the kitchen island. “He even eats cheese!”
Wasn’t that a commercial?
“Maybe we should give him a cheese stick.” Her idea inspires a quirked eyebrow. “Or some smoked glouda!”
“Gouda,” Rainne firmly reprimands.
“Good suggestion, Henz, we can bring it to a family vote later if you want.”
“I’m gonna vote no,” her sister quickly announces as she settles herself on a barstool.
“Me too,” my youngest agrees almost instantaneously.
“Me three, so how about we stick to our traditions that are already in place?”
Henz tosses me an overdramatic wink. “Good idea, Dad.”
She’s a character alright.
My light laughter is followed by a lifted brow. “Where’s your mom?”
“Bringin’ in the stuff,” Henz answers during her struggle to hoist herself up onto a stool.
Nope. Don’t help. She is very miss independent. Gets very…crabby when you assist without her permission. No clue where she got that shit from. What? Why are you looking at me like that?
They’re both tossed disapproving looks. “And you two decided not to help?”
“We asked,” Rainne reassures after putting her shopping bag on the table. “She said no thank you.”
Which means she snuck in gifts for one or both of them.
Nodding my comprehension, I slip out of our kitchen to aid Jaye in whatever way I possibly can.
Her entering to my exiting is greeted in a similar loving fashion to that of our daughters. “Hey, baby!”
“Hey, sweetheart!” Removing the bags from Jaye’s possession occurs prior to me dropping my mouth onto hers.
She happily hums at the impact and parts her sticky lips to grant me access to the territory no other man has had access to since we met.
We wanted to be married long before we ever finished our first year together; however, we both knew it would better to wait. Let me get my feet on sturdier ground. Have a little more independence for lack of a better phrasing. My first year being on the loading docks was hard as fuck. Physically taxing and emotionally exhausting between our dwindled time together and my refusal for what I had labeled as more fucking handouts. It took a good talking from Charles and a literal slap upside the head from Dane for me to put my pride aside and be a bit more open to help with a vehicle. Accepting that help shifted me and Jaye back to a better place and shortly after, I was promoted. And then I kept getting promoted and switching stores around the city every couple of years or so until I got to corporate for the region. I generally like what do. I liked it even more when I started being able to help pay for bigger things than the small book-themed wedding we had on the second anniversary of the day we first met. It’s the day that our lives officially changed whether or not we realized it at the time. Seemed fitting to be the day we changed them again. And her last name of course.