Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 85277 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85277 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
Chapter Thirty-One
LAUREN
The alarm starts to buzz, waking me up. I go to stretch, but I’m wrapped up tight in Austin’s arms. Every morning, we set the alarm for five a.m., so he can leave before the kids get up.
It’s been over two weeks since he made his declaration. In those two weeks, he’s been here every single time I went to spin class to watch the kids. Proving how much he meant what he said, he sticks to our routine, following it to a T. It’s crazy how well he just fits in. It’s like he was always meant to be here.
We end every night by starting out on the couch before slowly making our way upstairs. Every single night, I fall asleep with a smile on my face, and every single morning, I wake up feeling happy. I’m happy.
He’s about to get up and out of bed when Rachel comes running into the room and jumps onto the bed. “Momma, there’s a monster under the bed,” she whispers as she crawls in between Austin and me. My eyes are wide open as I take them in, trying to gauge both of their reactions to this surprise development. I know the kids are used to having Austin around now; it’s just that we haven’t done the whole sleepover thing yet. “Asstin, you the man, go kill it.” Rachel gets under the covers with us. Thank god, we got dressed last night after we finished. When Austin doesn’t move, Rachel looks back at him. “Are you scared, too? Momma, call Noah,” she whispers, and it’s then that Austin snaps.
“I’m going to go get that monster and kick him out.” He walks out of the room, his basketball shorts hanging on his hips. Just one look at him, and my mouth waters. Another thing that has changed is that he has changes of clothes here. When he comes in after work, he changes into something more comfortable and always leaves those clothes here.
I hear some banging coming from Rachel’s room and then a swoosh of something. Rachel curls up tightly into me, and I pull her into my arms to hold her. “Honey, there is nothing to be scared of.”
“All gone.” Austin comes back into the room scratching his side.
Rachel pulls the cover from her face watching Austin. “Are you sure?” she asks, while he nods yes.
She gets up and starts jumping on the bed till she jumps into his arms. “You killed the monster? For me?”
“Anything for you, princess,” he replies with a kiss to her head.
“I love you, Asstin,” she says, and my mouth just opens and closes as I stumble to formulate a response. But Austin doesn’t skip a beat.
“Well, that’s good, because I love you, too.” He climbs back into bed with her held close to his chest.
“Are you going to do sleepovers like Ms. Camilla does with Dad?”
Austin looks over at me, as if to ask for the right words to say. When I just shrug my shoulders, he once again proves his words from two weeks ago when he does his own thing and tells her, “I would like that a lot, and maybe sometime we could have a sleepover at my house. Would you like that?”
“Are there monsters at your house?” she asks him with all the seriousness of a scared six-year-old little girl.
“Nope, none. I think Noah has some at his house, though.” He smiles over her head at me.
“We are never sleeping at Noah’s house, Mommy.” She turns to me. “But maybe we could try sleeping at Asstin’s?”
“Yes, baby.” I kiss her head. “Maybe we can.” I return his smile over her head.
“Do you love my mommy, Asstin?” Her question has my breath stopping in my chest. My heart is beating so fast and loud in my ears, I’m pretty sure that people on the moon can hear it, so obviously the two other people in this bed with me surely can, too.
“Rachel, honey, how about we make some pancakes?” I try to get out of bed in an attempt to forget the question, trying to bail Austin out from having been put on the spot. As I whip the covers off me and Rachel to get us out of bed, Austin’s arm reaches out and latches around mine to halt my movements. I look at his hand on my arm, but I’m too afraid to look up at him.
I don’t know if I want to know the answer. I mean, I do want to know, but I don’t know if this is the way I want to learn it. What if he is feeling forced into telling me? What if he just doesn’t want to say it?
“I love your mom more than you know,” he answers her, and me as well. His words bring tears to my eyes. There’s a softness, almost a reverence to his voice as if he’s talking to me, only me, as if we were alone. “I’ve never loved anyone the way I love your mom.” One tear slips out, landing on my arm and rolling onto his hand that grips me. “To the moon and back,” he says, quoting one of the books he’s read to Rachel when he was putting her to bed while I was out one night last week.