Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 84203 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84203 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
“My sperm donor left everything to me,” Ellie says, tears filling her eyes. She’s been extremely emotional since everything happened. Micah suggested I take her to see someone, but she begged me not to, saying she just needs time.
I glance from Ellie to Micah in shock. “Is she for real?”
“Yep, she was left the entire Gutierrez estate,” he confirms with a shrug.
“Wait, does that mean she’s like some mob princess?” I shriek, starting to freak out. “Oh my God, is she in the mob?”
“No,” Micah says with a laugh, which has me glaring his way. “The guy was corrupt, but like any smart businessman, he also had plenty of legal assets. His estate will be broken down and dismantled. Any dirty money will get donated at Ellie’s request, and the legal money will go into a trust account that she’ll have full access to once she turns eighteen. Until then, anything she chooses to purchase has to go through the executor of the estate, Norman Eisenburg, who seems like a decent guy.”
“And I’ve already decided on the first thing I’m going to purchase with my money,” Ellie adds, raw emotion laced in every word. “Lola’s Dance Studio. Grace said she’s thinking about selling it, and I want to buy it for you. You love to dance, and your dream was always to do just that.”
“Oh, El,” I rasp. “But not just for me, right? You’ve always said you’re going to go to school locally and live at home. We could run it together.”
Ellie smiles sadly, and not for the first time, it feels like something is off, but I can’t figure out what, and she’s not talking. “Yeah, maybe,” she says noncommittally. “But for now, I just want this to be yours. You’ve given me so much, and I want to give this to you.” She lays a hand gently on my belly. “And who knows? Maybe this little boy or girl will love dance as much as we do.”
I choke up, my hormones getting the better of me. “Thank you.” I wrap her into my arms and hug her tightly. “I love you, El.”
“I love you, too,” she says, standing. “I have a bunch of homework I need to get caught up on, so I’m going to go do that.”
Once we’re alone, Micah takes up the spot where Ellie was just sitting. “How are you feeling?”
“Emotional,” I joke, making us both laugh. “I just can’t believe how much our life has changed in such a short amount of time.”
“For the good?” Micah confirms.
“Definitely. For so long, I felt like we were forced into a life neither one of us asked for. Until you came along, I was scared of falling in love, but you reminded me every step of the way that the risk is worth the reward.”
“And what’s the reward?” he asks, even though he knows damn well what it is. He just wants to hear me say it.
“The reward is love.”
EPILOGUE
MICAH
“I can’t find my pink leo!” Ellie shouts from somewhere in the house.
“Blue leo!” London, our almost two-year-old-daughter, adds.
“I haven’t seen either one,” Sienna yells from somewhere. “And I can’t find London’s ballet slippers. If anyone sees them, let me know.”
It’s official. My once bachelor pad has been overrun by women. And not just women—ballerinas.
I walk upstairs to London’s room first and find her flinging her leotards all over the place, making a mess. Leaning against the door, I clear my throat to get her attention, and the second she sees me, her entire face lights up.
“Daddy!” She stops what she’s doing and runs straight for me. She giggles as I lift her into my arms and over my head, pulling a move she loves from the dancing movie she watches repeatedly. Then she spreads her arms out wide and juts her legs out like she’s a professional. When I bring her back down, she wraps her arms around me and kisses my cheek. “Blue leo?” she asks, her bright blue eyes—identical to her mother’s—alight with hope.
“I don’t know where it is, sweetheart. How about you put on another one?” Her eyes immediately dim, and I regret my words, knowing that wasn’t the right thing to say. Like her mother and aunt, my daughter takes dancing seriously, and that includes wearing the leo she wants.
“Blue one.” She pouts, wiggling for me to set her down. She runs back to where she’s destroying her drawers, so I head out to find my wife next.
She’s in the laundry room, sifting through the clothes, and I take a moment to watch her. Today, she’s wearing a tight tank top and black leggings that show off every perfect curve. Her hair is up in a messy knot on the top of her head, and though I can’t see her face, I would bet it’s makeup free, aside from some of that glossy shit she wears on her lips that always gets all over mine when I kiss her.