Total pages in book: 33
Estimated words: 30094 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 150(@200wpm)___ 120(@250wpm)___ 100(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 30094 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 150(@200wpm)___ 120(@250wpm)___ 100(@300wpm)
A woman with newborn twins walks by the restaurant, soaking up the midday sun as she takes her babies for a walk. She’s dressed as the perfect fitness mom in a crop, matching tights, and a pair of Nikes. Her bleach-blonde hair has been pulled back in a high pony, and from the looks of it, she’s been putting in all the effort to spring back after her pregnancy. She looks amazing, but what really draws my attention are the babies in her stroller.
I let out a heavy sigh and prop my elbow on the table, gazing after them as they cross in front of the window. “I think I want one of those,” I tell the boys.
They all glance out the window, and a soft smile pulls at Roman’s lips as his hand drops to my thigh under the table, gently squeezing. Levi just nods, more than ready to give me a baby. Hell, it’s not the first time this has been brought up, but on the other hand, Marcus braces his palms against the table and pushes back out of his seat, nodding toward the woman and her newborns. “Which one?” he asks with complete seriousness on his face.
I gape at him. “What?”
“Which baby?” he asks, his gaze flicking between me and the woman. “She has two, and from the looks of it, there’s a boy and a girl. You’ve already got Sebastian, so I’m assuming you want the girl.” He goes to walk away, not bothering to wait for my response because sometimes he thinks he knows me better than I know myself, and yeah, sometimes he does, but right now, he’s more than got his wires crossed.
“Marcus, get your moronic ass back here,” I hiss before he has the chance to stride out those doors and steal that woman’s child. “I don’t mean that I want her baby,” I say as he stops and glances back at me, his brows furrowed. “What I’m saying is that I want to have one of my own.”
“Oh,” he grunts, his face scrunching up in distaste. “Can you still fuck when you’re pregnant?”
“Yes,” I laugh, watching as he lets out a breath, relief flashing in those dark eyes.
“Then why the hell didn’t you say something?” he says, walking back to the table and making a move to whip out his dick. “Spread out on the table and show me that sweet cunt. I’ll give you a baby right now.”
“What?” Roman grunts. “Why the fuck do you get to be the one to knock her up?”
“Oh, and you think it should be you?” Levi throws across the table. “You’ve already got a kid together. If anyone, it should be me. Marcus isn’t ready to be a father, and I’ve wanted this for years.”
“Uhhh . . . do I get a say in this?” I throw out there, though none of them seem to hear me, more than intent to fight it out as I simply roll my eyes and lean back in my chair, skimming over the bar menu. The boys go back and forth, giving every ridiculous reason under the sun why they get to be the one who knocks me up, and after ten minutes of arguing, Marcus and Levi seem to be on the same page that Roman doesn’t stand a chance, seeing as though we already have Sebastian together. Though, he’s more than happy to use the fact that I’m not Seb’s biological mother to his disposal, despite knowing damn well that doesn’t count.
It starts getting out of hand when Marcus slips the knife off the table, ready to take out the competition when my phone sounds from the table, and I send up a little prayer of thanks when they all reluctantly shut up, giving me the chance to answer the call.
My brows furrow, seeing that it’s Sebastian’s school calling, and I glance to Roman, having known this was coming after Chelle’s warning this morning. “Shit,” I sigh, scooping up the phone. “It’s Sebastian’s teacher wanting a meeting.”
Roman cringes, knowing how this is going to go, and I force a fake smile across my face, hoping that can somehow make me sound somewhat happy to be speaking to the woman.
Hitting accept on the call, I lift the phone to my ear, ready to get my ass handed to me by the kindergarten teacher. “Hi, Mrs. Hut—”
“Miss Moretti,” my greeting is cut off by the sound of the school principal, a heavy sob in her tone. “It’s Sebastian. There’s been an . . . incident.”
“What?” I rush out, getting to my feet, and scooping up my purse as the boys look at me with fear in their eyes.
“I’m so sorry,” she cries through the phone. “There was nothing we could do. She tried to protect him, but they—they—”