Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 71768 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71768 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
His green eyes filled with moisture. “I’m glad it’s you too, Colby.”
“You weren’t on day one of the great coparenting pact.”
“I was grieving—I still am, and it just… was so much. I mean, it still is, but…” He gripped my hand in his, then lifted it to his lips. “Every day gets better.”
“Every day does.” I leaned in to kiss him and was interrupted by the pitter-patter sound of feet and whispering.
“I don’t know, Aunt Colby wasn’t in there. I looked!” Ben said in a panicked voice. “Aunt Colby!” His whisper was more like a yell, like he was scared something had happened to me. It broke my heart as I nearly tripped over the blankets to get to the door and grab Ben. No matter what happened, I’d never leave this kid—never leave them.
They were mine.
Just as much as they were Rip’s.
And we were going to be the constant that they needed.
One Rip and Monica had never had growing up so fast after their parents died.
I cracked open the door to Rip’s room and said, “I got scared, so Uncle Rip said I could sleep in his room.”
“Cool!” Ben shoved his way in. “I wanna sleep in Uncle Rip’s room.”
He sped past me. Thank God Rip was fast, and he intercepted little Ben before he could jump onto the bed of fornication.
“Let’s find your sister and we can go into the big bed together, sound good?” He winked at me, then sauntered sexily by.
I fanned my face and followed after him. Viera was still in the hallway, Bugsy tucked under her arm. She seemed to be staring into the shadows.
“What are you looking at, honey?” I asked, kneeling down next to her.
“Mom and Dad.” She sighed. “They’re angels now.”
“Oh, are they?”
“Yeah, Dad said so.”
I tried to keep my expression impassive when really I wanted to burst into tears. Was she really praying to her mom? Talking to her like I encouraged them to? It was almost too much to see the emotion on Viera’s face and the pure confidence that what she said was reality. “Then it must be true.”
“Ben don’t believe me.” Her lower lip trembled.
Ben let out a dramatic sigh. “I didn’t say that!”
“Why don’t we all try getting back to sleep and we can talk about it in the morning?” Rip intervened, and I released a relieved sigh.
Viera yawned while Ben just nodded as we all stumbled to the master bedroom and crawled into bed.
Rip flicked the lights off.
Within minutes the air was full of the kids’ heavy breathing, but I was wide awake still—staring up at the ceiling.
Missing them. Monica and Brooks.
Wishing I could thank them for knowing me and Rip better than we knew ourselves and hoping to God they were looking down and giving each other a high five for being so wise and bossy.
Rip grabbed my hand and held it against his chest as we moved to cuddle, but the real kind, not the sex kind—we’re not monsters.
“New normal,” he whispered.
“New normal,” I agreed.
TWENTY-TWO
Rip
“You look too happy,” Banks pointed out the next day at work when I tried to avoid Heather like the plague. “Can I have the pears?”
I slapped his hand away, but that didn’t deter him. He was right back there grabbing a damn pear like it belonged to him. He pulled out a chair and bit in.
Earlier that morning, Heather had given her two-week notice and left a fruit basket as a parting gift. I’d expected her to be somewhat upset over our conversation where I’d set clear boundaries, but I really hadn’t expected her to quit over it—quite honestly I was thankful that the person who looked down on having kids and a family was out of my life. It just made me realize that maybe Colby was right, maybe people didn’t change.
Then again, I’d like to think I had.
Banks picked up the card and snorted. “‘I appreciate you’? Is she serious right now? What sort of passive-aggressive bullshit is this? And why do you look so happy again? You never said…” He bit into the pear again, the noise like nails on a chalkboard.
“I’m always this happy,” I said defensively.
Banks’s green eyes narrowed. “No, you’re not. You hate my mugs. You hate my ties. You hate color.” I opened my mouth to argue, but he interjected, “One day you yelled at me for breathing too loud.”
“In my defense you were hovering over my shoulder trying to read the Men’s Health I was reading, and you were chewing in my ear!”
“Nice try. You’re always grumpy, which brings us full circle to the weird smile on your face when I came in. I just had to say your name six times before the cloud of happiness dissipated around you. Normally you’ve got a billion different things going on, and right now, your laptop isn’t even open.”