Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 85472 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85472 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
“Marsh is scary.” Grant laughs.
“No. She wanted me. We’re buds.” I rub my hand up her little back, and she snuggles into my neck. It’s as if she’s tied a string around my heart and attached it to her little fist.
“I can take her,” Wren interrupts us.
“Nope. I’ve got her. You go grab something to eat.”
“I can take her. I’m used to multitasking,” Wren offers.
“Well, today, you don’t have to. Go grab something to eat. You too, sis,” I tell Aspen.
“Come on, ladies. Let’s get you a plate. Marshall, you stay close.” Mom points her finger at me.
I’m a grown man with my momma pointing a finger at me while holding a baby, like I’m going to leave her on the table all alone or something. I get it. She’s trying to reassure Wren. “I’ll stay close. Go make a plate. Maddie and I are going to make our rounds and say hello.” I capture Wren’s gaze. “I’ll keep her safe. I promise.”
She hesitates, but when Aspen links her arm through Wren’s, she lets Aspen and my mother lead her away. “All right, cutie pie, it’s time to say hi to my other brothers, and then there are a few new people for you to meet.” My first stop is Dad.
“Who do we have here?” he asks.
“This is Madeline.”
“Ah.” He nods. “This is the little one who likes you the best.”
“It’s been confirmed a second time. Con held her first this time, and she, of course, wanted me.”
“Where’s Wren?” Royce asks.
“She went with Mom and Aspen to grab something to eat.”
“And she left Madeline with you?” he asks.
“She did. You know I’m her favorite,” I remind him.
“I think we need to test your theory,” Royce suggests.
“We already did. She cried for me when Con had her.” I stand a little taller. I don’t know why this pleases me as much as it does. It’s not like she’s my niece. Usually, it's because I have one-up on my brothers. It’s that, but it’s something else too. Maybe it’s because I know her momma is struggling to give her the best life that she can. Maybe it's because I know her daddy is no longer here. Then again, maybe it’s just the little girl in my arms and that string she’s apparently attached to my heart.
“That’s because I haven’t held her,” my dad boasts. “Let me try.”
“She’s comfy,” I reply.
“Come on, Marsh. Let Dad hold her.”
“Fine,” I grumble. “Maddie, this is my dad. His name is Stanley. He’s nice. I promise.” I whisper the words before transferring her into my dad’s arms. I watch as she stares up at him.
“Aren’t you a cute little thing,” Dad says softly. He only has eyes for Madeline. “I raised five boys, and now my boys have boys. I’m not used to holding little girls.” He’s rambling, and she seems fine, which takes the wind out of my sails.
“I guess it wasn’t just you,” Owen says, joining us.
“Well, I’m the favorite brother, so there.” At the sound of my voice, Madeline turns to look at me and juts out her little lip. When it starts to quiver, I don’t give Dad the chance to refuse, I take her from him, and she settles against my chest, just like she did earlier. As if the spot is hers and hers alone.
“Huh,” Dad says, shoving his hands in his pockets.
“I win.” I grin at him.
“So it seems.”
“They’re just jealous,” I whisper to Madeline. “Come on. There are still more people for you to meet.” I give my dad and brothers a nod as I turn.
“He doesn’t even see it,” my dad says as I walk away.
I have no idea what he’s rambling on about. It’s easy to see that I’m her favorite.
“Hey, Mommy, I think we’re hungry,” I say after about thirty minutes of walking around and letting Madeline meet everyone and say hi to those who have already met her.
“I can take her.” Wren starts to stand.
“I can do it. Just point me in the right direction.”
“She breastfeeds.” Aurora smirks.
“I do, but she takes a bottle.” Wren is quick to reply. Her cheeks are rosy from embarrassment.
I can’t help it. My eyes stray to Wren’s tits, and yeah, I’ve noticed them before, but I’m looking again. You can’t tell me she breastfeeds and expect me not to look at her chest. It’s just not possible.
“Marshall.” Her voice pulls my attention back to the moment. “My daughter.” She holds her hands out for me to hand over the baby.
“Did you eat?”
She looks down at her plate that is still half full. “I’m working on it.”
“I’ll feed her.” I don’t give her time to argue. I walk over to where we left the car seat and find the diaper bag.
“You don’t have to do this,” she says from behind me.