Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 69452 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69452 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
“And I hope that Dix told you that he’s a horrible sick person.” Chris rolled his eyes.
“Actually, he did, when he tried to convince me to stay with him,” Merriam said.
“Let me go change and we can move into your half of the apartment.” Neesha all but ran away.
Chris and I both chuckled.
“The fact that she still has that much energy…” Merriam shook her head. “When I was that pregnant, I was like a beached whale.”
“Neesha is a sprinter.” Chris shrugged. “She’s been to two Olympics and won bronze twice. This last time, she was six weeks pregnant when she won. Her goal for this next Olympics is to get gold.”
“She got bronze six weeks pregnant?” Merriam gasped.
“She did,” he confirmed, puffing up his chest. “I’m proud as fuck of her.”
Chapter
Thirteen
Snows out, hoe out.
—Coffee Cup
MERRIAM
“You should be,” I said.
“Sometimes it’s hard to be around these two.” He jerked his chin backward, then forward toward Jeremiah. “They’re so fucking athletic. And I’m not. I try to keep myself in shape for them, but I’m just way better with a hammer than working out.”
“You don’t have time to do much more than what you’re already doing.” Jeremiah snorted. “If you wanted to work out more, you couldn’t, because you work too much.”
Chris grinned. “He’s right. I just got the business off the ground. I’m neck deep in the downtown restoration for Hooker, and sometimes barely tread water.”
“He’s fantastic.” Neesha swept back into the room with leggings, socks over her leggings, and a massive sweatshirt that must belong to her husband, billowing over her tiny frame.
“I’ll bet.” I gestured to the room around us. “If this place is anything to go by.”
Chris blushed, which was adorably cute.
“I’ll go change, too,” he said. “I’ll bring some beer back.”
“No beer for me,” Jeremiah grumbled.
Chris walked away without acknowledging him.
“He’s totally bringing you a beer,” Neesha added.
“He just refuses to adhere to the no beer during the season thing.” Jeremiah sighed and led the way out of the room.
Neesha fell into step beside me and explained. “Jeremiah tries to do the whole ‘my body is a temple’ thing, but his family refuses to allow him to do that during the holidays. They’ll let him during the regular season, but they totally expect him to unwind with them during Christmas time. Being a professional runner, I completely understand the whole ‘staying in shape’ thing. But Chris doesn’t even let me have a pass. This family bonds with food and drink. And they won’t let you get out of it.”
“Not even when you’re sick,” Jeremiah mumbled. “I…”
He trailed off when he came into the main part of his apartment.
I looked to where he was heading and saw my girl awake.
She was staring around, not crying—because my daughter didn’t cry—and had the saddest look on her face.
My heart pinched.
“She’s beautiful,” Neesha whispered as she watched Jeremiah head over to my daughter. “I love her curly hair.”
I did, too.
It was the one thing that she’d gotten from me.
The rest was all her father.
“The only thing that she inherited from me,” I admitted.
“Her father was fair?” she asked.
“Yes,” I admitted. “Blonde hair, blue eyes.”
“She’s gorgeous,” she said. “But she has your eyes and your nose.”
“Maybe,” I agreed as I studied her. “I kind of expected her to take more after me since I’m half Native American, but nope. She came out with blonde hair and those blue eyes, and she’s never changed.”
“I’ve been wondering what this one will look like,” she said as she patted her belly. “I’m half Black. I got my hair from my mom—who is White. My skin tone is a beautiful mix between the two. But my siblings all look like my dad. They like to tease me that I was adopted.”
“Genetics are definitely crazy,” I said. “My mom was Native American and my dad is Scottish. Then throw in the touch of Italian. I’m a real mixture.”
“Wow,” she said, rubbing circles on her belly. “Man, I’m so excited. I have a few more weeks left until she’s done cooking.”
“You have a few more months,” Chris corrected. He had a gleam in his eyes as he added the next part. “And that’s if you don’t go overdue.”
“Don’t wish that voodoo on me.” She pointed her finger at him. “I’m hoping she decides in two weeks that she’s ready to come meet me.”
Jeremiah came over with my daughter in his arms.
I held mine out to her, and she shook her head.
“I think she’s ready for more meds,” I said. “It’s about the time for her to get more ibuprofen.”
“I’ll get it,” unperturbed that she’d chosen to stay with Jeremiah.
To be honest, I would’ve chosen to stay, too.
I came back with the meds and gave them to her.
Chris gasped. “What was that sorcery?”
“What?” I asked.
“You just gave her those, and there was no exorcist experience.” He gasped theatrically. “Our nieces are fucking lunatics when you have to give them meds.”