Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 57866 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 289(@200wpm)___ 231(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57866 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 289(@200wpm)___ 231(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
“Here, let’s try this,” I said, gently moving her into an upright position against my chest, her little face peeking over my shoulder.
I’d seen people hold babies like this on TV. Maybe she just wanted a look at the world around her, instead of staring at faces nonstop.
Patting her back, I put my cheek against the side of her head. She was so soft. So tiny. And I couldn’t get enough of her fresh, sweet smell.
After several pats on her back, Iris let out a massive sound. It took me a second to register that it was a burp. She immediately relaxed and stopped crying.
“What was that?” Marlowe asked from inside the bathroom, flushing the toilet.
“I think she burped,” I said. “It smells like sour milk.”
“Oh my god, you’re a genius. And I think you should decorate my bathroom when I get unpacked, because yours is gorgeous.”
By the sound of the running water, I knew she was washing her hands. I reached over to stroke Iris’s tiny hand and she wrapped her fist around my finger and cooed. A tug started inside my chest at knowing my time holding little Iris was almost over. Swallowing hard, I pressed a kiss to the dark, downy hair on top of her head, closing my eyes.
God, this felt amazing. Now that she’d burped, she was drifting off, and all I wanted was to sit down with her and watch her sleep. Sneak in little caresses of her tiny fingers and round cheeks. Kiss her little head over and over. I’d fixed her. I’d comforted this tiny, helpless human. Was there anything more fulfilling?
“Thank you,” Marlowe said, emerging from the bathroom and reaching for the baby.
I didn’t want to give up Iris just yet, so I led the way back to the living room.
“Do you want some coffee?” I asked.
“I’d love some. I don’t know which box my coffeemaker is in, so I’ve been Door Dashing it, but I didn’t have time this morning because I had to do an early yoga class.”
Her phone dinged and Marlowe read the message on the screen.
“Or not,” she said. “Josie’s going to be here in ten minutes, and I have to pack up Iris’s diaper bag.”
She reached for the baby again, and I reluctantly passed her over, missing the feel of her the moment she was gone.
“Do you want to take my number?” Marlowe asked. “I’m new to Denver, and I’d love a local friend to hit up coffee shops and restaurants with.”
“Um, sure.”
I got my phone and entered her number as she recited it.
“How about lunch Friday?” she asked.
I never went out for lunch on workdays. My thirty-minute break was always spent eating a quick meal, stretching, and doing a five-minute meditation. But truth be told, I never went out for lunch because I never had an invite.
“Okay,” I said. “Friday.”
“Perf. I’ll be doing some day drinking, but no judgment if you don’t want to.” She winked at me. “Thanks again for your help, Shelby.”
“No problem.”
“Say ‘bye,’ Iris.” Marlowe gently took the sleeping infant’s slack wrist and moved it in a waving motion.
As soon as I closed the door, I pressed my back against it, reeling from the unexpected emotions welling withing me.
My annoyance over Iris’s crying was nothing compared to how amazing it felt to have her in my arms. For a moment, it was like I had a family again.
Since the deaths of my grandparents five years ago, I’d been alone in the world. And for the most part, I’d been okay with that. I’d told myself my work was my legacy. But when I’d held Iris, something had…clicked. It was like this hole opened up inside me, or maybe it was there all along and I never realized it. I wasn’t just a lawyer. I was a woman. A woman who could soothe a crying baby. A woman who could be a mother. And that’s when it hit me.
I wanted a baby.
More than anything.
CHAPTER TWO
Three months later
Beau
“Jesus, does Sara Lane want to have your babies or what?”
The derision in my teammate Colby’s tone wasn’t really about the sports reporter who threw me softball questions at the after-game press conference. He’d had a shit game and was blowing off steam. And I couldn’t deny there was some accuracy in his question.
Sara had asked my teammates about their mistakes on the ice tonight, but she’d asked me how it felt to be named one of Denver’s Most Eligible Bachelors by a local magazine.
“She asked you the same goddamn question at the last press conference!” Colby scoffed and loosened the tie around his neck as we made our way through the arena’s player exit. “I thought her next question would be if you want her to spit or swallow.”
“We’ll never know since Mike Groban got to ask the next question.” I grinned at my friend. “And swallow, obviously.”