Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 73774 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73774 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
“Yeah,” I breathe.
“I told you I wouldn’t,” he says. “She woke up a little bit ago, and you were coughing like crazy, so I didn’t want to wake you up. I changed her diaper and fed her breakfast, and we’ve been watching some good ole Sesame Street on the couch.”
“They still make that show?”
“I don’t know, but I found it on YouTube, and she seems into it.”
“Thank you,” I tell him. “I’m sorry for—”
“Stop apologizing. This is all new to both of us. It’s going to take some time, but we’ll get there… one day at a time.” He smiles softly. “Why don’t you help me give Little Miss Sick her meds and then take some yourself and go lie back down? I can chill with her while you get some rest.”
I sigh in relief, thankful to have Gage here with us, especially now that I’m sick as well. Going through her meds, I give her the cough and ear medicine before popping some meds myself and then going back to bed.
I pass out instantly, not waking up until it’s dark outside. Confused and disoriented, I check the time and see it’s eight o’clock. Holy shit, I literally slept all day. I go pee and brush my teeth, then walk out to check on Gage and Rory, finding them in her bathroom. I stand in the doorway, watching as he gives her a bath. She must be feeling better because she’s splashing away and laughing as he pretends one of her toys is a shark coming after her to tickle her.
As I watch them together, a feeling of warmth spreads through my chest. I don’t regret my decision to walk away and later protect her, but I’m glad that, unlike Vincent, Gage has committed to getting and staying clean. I wonder if I would’ve pushed harder and forced Vincent to go to rehab if things would’ve been different, but then I remember what Gage had said one night when we were talking about his recovery—that nobody can force an addict to get help. He has to want to do it himself. And Gage wants to be clean.
“Hey, how’re you feeling?” Gage asks, shaking me from my thoughts.
“My throat hurts, and I have a cough, but not too bad.”
“Good. I got you some chicken noodle soup.” I stiffen at his words, and he must notice because he adds, “I had food delivered.”
Dammit, I did it again. I assumed the worst without giving him the benefit of the doubt. It’s not fair to continue to project my insecurities and past on him when he’s trying so hard to move forward. He’s been clean for over a year and deserves to be given the benefit of the doubt.
“Thank you. Soup sounds really good.”
“Mamama!” Rory yells, her hands coming down and splashing her and Gage.
“Hey, sweet girl.” I walk into the bathroom and lean down to kiss her forehead. Did you have a good day with Daddy?” She answers by splashing again, this time giggling.
“Go eat, and once she’s done, I’ll put her pajamas on and bring her out to say good night before I put her to bed.”
“Thank you,” I choke out. “You being here… means a lot to me.” Too many times, Vincent would choose the pills over being a husband and a father. I spent years wishing and hoping for a partner, only to be alone. Gage doesn’t understand what him being here really means to me.
Gage deserves a fresh start, to be given the chance to be the father he’s trying to be, and it’s time to give him that chance.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
GAGE
“And then the pink princess with her pink tutu danced across the stage. The end.”
“Dada,” Rory squeals, slapping the book closed and climbing off the couch. I swear every time she yells Dada, I want to give her the damn world. Setting the book down, I follow her as she crawls across the floor to her favorite cups. She’s dressed in a pink onesie and tutu that matches the book I just read to her, and she looks so damn cute. I snap a picture of her and send it in a group text to my friends, and seconds later, the women are texting back that they can’t wait to meet her.
Sadie is still under the weather, so she’s been sleeping a lot the past few days, leaving me to spend time with Rory. As she hands me the cup, silently demanding I stack them with her, I have no clue how the hell I’m going to walk out the door tomorrow and get on that flight to go home. Every day I spend here makes it harder to leave. A month ago, I didn’t even know I had a daughter, and now I can’t imagine living without her… except I don’t actually live with her. I visit… occasionally. Since I’ve known about her, I’ve spent more days on the phone with her than in person… until this week. And spending time with her, watching as she grows and changes, makes me realize everything I’m missing when I’m gone. And it fucking sucks. But what choice do I have?