Total pages in book: 32
Estimated words: 29962 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 150(@200wpm)___ 120(@250wpm)___ 100(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 29962 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 150(@200wpm)___ 120(@250wpm)___ 100(@300wpm)
“Then something with melted cheese. Ooh, and a baked potato. I usually hate potatoes, but they’re so yummy lately.”
I start washing her, taking my time and savoring the moment. We won’t get many days like this once the child is born. Then our time together will be shorter, stolen moments that we’ll squeeze between raising our babies. “Then a cheesy baked potato it is.”
“You spoil me, but who spoils you?”
“Oh, I got plenty spoiled when you put on that red dress.” After she put it on, she got on her knees and sucked me off until I was coming down her pretty little throat. There was a moment when she looked up at me, and I could almost swear that she loves me back.
She yawns, and I realize she must be sleepy. Thea told me that she’s been falling asleep at her desk in the middle of the day. She had put it down to not sleeping well lately, but I suspect it’s the pregnancy. She needs extra rest, and I’m going to make sure she gets it.
I finish bathing her, then carry her into my bedroom despite her protests that she’s a grown woman who can walk. That’s true, but she’s my woman, and I happen to like carrying her in my arms.
She gestures toward the canvas print above my bed. It’s a fox in the forest, peeking out from behind a bush. I purchased it from Ranger Scott a few years ago. He does nature photography over at his place though he does less of it since getting married to Tia, his mail order bride. “You have another print of a fox in your living room. What do you like about them so much?”
I reach for a comb, pulling it through her wavy, blonde hair. It tangles once, but I stop and carefully work it through the snag, so I don’t hurt her.
“When I was little, I had this stuffed orange fox. It was a gift from one of the foster dads I didn’t get to stay with for long. He told me he’d filled it with love and kisses. He said whenever I was lonely or sad, I could hug it.”
I pause and swallow. I hugged that damn thing every day. That’s not something I should tell Thea. So instead, I continue, “I lost it somewhere along the way. But now when I see foxes, I think of that man and how kind he was to a lost kid. Guess it makes me feel good.”
“There are some amazing foster parents out there,” she says softly.
I wonder if she’s thinking of her own childhood, and I don’t want her to be sad. We’ve both had enough of that in our lives. It’s time for a new era. “We’re going to be amazing parents to our baby.”
She yawns again, and I reluctantly stop combing her hair. I want to keep talking with her and learning everything I can about her life. But she needs rest. I usher her under the covers and stay with her until she finally drifts to sleep. When she’s snoring softly, I leave the room and send a quick text message to Zac’s wife, Dotty. Are you busy today? I need a favor.
My phone rings less than a minute later and I scramble to answer it. It’s Zac’s voice on the other end of the phone. “Why the fuck are you calling my wife on Valentine’s Day weekend and asking her if she can do you a favor?”
I start to make a sarcastic reply because Zac is one of my oldest friends. Then I think about how I’d feel if some other man were calling Thea and asking her for a favor on the most romantic holiday weekend of the year. “It’s not for me. It’s for Thea.”
Zac’s tone changes. “Why would she be asking you for a favor?”
“Because she’s at my cabin this weekend.” I want to tell him about the baby. My chest puffs out at the thought of getting to tell him that. Still, I keep the words inside. Zac and Thea are friends, but he’s also her client. She may not be ready for those in her professional life to know about this.
If it were my decision, I’d have already broadcast it to every corner of the world. I would have rented billboards, run social media campaigns, and tattooed the good news all over my body. Thea Madison is carrying my child.
“Why is she—?” I hear the suspicion change to outrage. “She’s a good friend. I swear to God, if you break her heart, I’ll kill you, and it won’t be quick either. You’ll suffer. I’ll make sure of it. First, I’ll start by chopping you into—”
“I love her,” I interrupt, because I am never ever going to hurt my curvy woman. “Do you remember when you got married?”