Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 54721 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 274(@200wpm)___ 219(@250wpm)___ 182(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54721 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 274(@200wpm)___ 219(@250wpm)___ 182(@300wpm)
What I don’t think about is wondering if she’ll have a dad. I know she will because I know Van won’t abandon it. Now, whether our marriage can be repaired is another matter. This isn’t the first time Van has gotten scared and his first reaction was to wall himself off. It might be that he’s just not cut out to be everything I need and I’ll have to come to grips with that.
But for now, I’m going to wait for him to work through this. I will give him the time he needs without me breathing down his neck or trying to force him to love me the way I want. If he can’t come to terms with his demons, though, I’ll tell him I’m pregnant and invite him to be involved in this journey as much or as little as he wants, but not as my husband. I’m not going to be in a marriage that is less than what I used to have with him.
I sip my cocoa and put it on the side table, nabbing the remote. I’ll binge-watch some Netflix. Just as I’m about to turn on the TV, a flash of lights comes through the living room window, rolling through the room before cutting off. Someone just pulled into the driveway and my pulse starts to race. No one would be visiting me at his hour.
No one but…
No way.
I roll off the couch and walk to the front door that’s covered by a lacy curtain. I pull it aside and see a white sedan sitting behind my rental car. It’s too shadowed to see clearly, but it’s definitely a man who gets out and walks toward the porch.
And as he finally steps into the glow from the sconce beside the door, my breath freezes as I realize it’s my husband wearing nothing but jeans and a long-sleeve T-shirt with a duffel slung over his shoulder.
Pressing my hand to my chest, I feel my heart in a mad gallop. I take a deep breath, unlock the door and swing it open just as he reaches the top step.
He halts, taking me in as frosty breath billows from his mouth, his eyes roaming slowly from my head to my feet, then back up to tether to my face. He says nothing, but neither do I. There’s no tension, though… which is weird. It’s almost like he’s supposed to be here right at this moment and I have no clue why, but I’m also not surprised.
I can only think back to Max saying he believed everything would work out okay and I guess deep down… I believed him.
“I’m going to grovel,” Van announces as he drops the duffel and moves toward me. “But first… I just want to hug you.”
There’s never a moment that runs through my mind to deny him. I gladly let him walk his body right into mine, wrap me in those strong arms and hold me tight to his chest as he presses his cheek to my head. I burrow into him, listening to his heartbeat, which is slow and steady compared to mine. I don’t even feel the cold blowing in through the door.
Van pulls back, putting chilly fingers under my chin and forcing my gaze up. “I love you,” he says.
“Never doubted it,” I assure him. Not once did I ever think he just fell out of love with me.
His smile is lopsided. “I’m an idiot.”
“Never doubted that either.” I pull back from him. He mentioned something about groveling and I’m going to insist he get on with it.
Van stares at me for a moment, accepting we’re at the part of this reunion where he’s going to have to humble himself a little. However, it can be done with a cup of cocoa.
I turn for the kitchen and I hear Van grabbing his duffel from the porch before shutting the door. His footsteps are heavy as he stands just inside the kitchen, watching me pour the steaming chocolate from the pot into his favorite mug. I glance at him and I’m relieved to see he doesn’t look uncomfortable. No matter how bad these last few weeks have been, I don’t want either of us to suffer anymore.
I hand Van his hot chocolate and we move into the living room. I resume my seat on one end of the couch and to my surprise, Van doesn’t take the other end. Or even the chair to my right.
He stands on the other side of the coffee table before the fireplace. I wait patiently as he takes a sip of his cocoa and sets the mug up on the mantel before facing me.
“So,” he says, spreading his arms as if he has a speech all planned. Except he falters and then his face crumbles, as if he doesn’t quite know how to start.