Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 81845 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 409(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81845 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 409(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
Awkwardly rolling out of bed, I put my feet to the floor and push myself off the mattress then waddle to the bathroom, brushing my teeth, and taking care of business as quickly as a nine-months pregnant woman can. Pulling my robe from the back of the door, I slip it on and tie the waist then move out of the room.
Sven got his wish and we moved to Tennessee a month after all the drama went down. It didn’t take me long at all to fall in the love with the town he called home, or the people he considered his family. When we moved to town, we stayed in Susan and James Mayson’s house while our home was built.
Our plan hadn’t been to stay with them. We planned to rent a house for a few months, but after Susan heard this news, she went all mom-mode on Sven and me, and insisted we stay with her and James, that they had plenty of room. I obviously tried to convince them otherwise, not wanting to be an inconvenience, but I learned quickly that when Susan wanted something, she got it, and she wanted us to stay with them.
I never knew people like the Maysons existed before. People who are good through and through, people who would do anything for those they consider family, and Sven and I were just that to them. Mayson Construction built our home, and most days, Sven could be found helping the men he considered brothers with the job of building our house. It made it that much more special when it was complete, and he knew his hard work went into the place our kids would grow up.
Walking down the long hall from our bedroom, past Sven’s office, I head through the great room, with its floor to ceiling windows and view of the large pond in the backyard, and into the big open kitchen where Sven is standing shirtless in front of the stove with the phone to his ear.
Spotting me, he grins then mutters, “I gotta go Ace.” And he drops the phone to the counter. Ace bought the club from Sven and funny enough he and Eva got together; I don’t know how it happened, but she turned him into a one-woman man.
“Was wondering how long it would take you to get here,” Sven says, using a fork to scoop out bacon from the frying pan onto a plate covered with a paper towel.
“You know it’s not actually me who likes bacon—it’s your son—right?” I ask, moving around the long counter and stealing a slice of crispy bacon from the plate.
“I’m glad my boy likes meat,” Sven mutters, wrapping his hand around the side of my neck, leaning in, kissing my mouth, whispering, “Morning,” and then dropping his hands to my stomach and bending down.
“I say we make a no-tofu rule for the house. What do you say?” he asks my belly, and our son kicks hard at the sound of his dad’s voice. “I’m taking that as a yes.” He smiles, looking up at me.
“I’m eating tofu. I’m only not eating tofu right now, because he makes me sick every time I try,” I tell him, something he already knows.
“Whatever you say, baby.” He grins as I reach for another piece of bacon. “You excited to see Morgan?”
“Yes, but I think she’s just coming so she can decorate and hog Maddox when he gets here.”
“She’s gonna have to fight me for my boy.”
I know he’s telling the truth, as his eyes light with a fire that’s only there when he talks about his family, especially his son. He’s excited to be a dad, and I have no doubt he will be hands-on. I honestly think I’ll have a hard time getting our kid away from him.
“I really can’t wait to see my mom and dad,” I tell him quietly as he rubs my tummy. My relationship with my parents changed drastically. They are no longer absent, but fully involved in not only my life, but also my sister’s. They even bought a small RV so they can travel to Tennessee to visit Sven and me, and to Colorado, where Morgan now lives with her fiancé.
After Morgan got out of rehab, she stayed with my parents for a few months then took a job in Colorado at a rehab facility for troubled youth. The owner of the facility, Greg, took one look at my sister and fell in love—as he puts it. They’re happy, and best of all, my sister is doing amazing in her recovery, and I really believe her helping young kids find the right path has been good for her.
“What time are they arriving?” he asks, kissing my forehead before moving away to the fridge.
“I think tomorrow sometime, but if Dad has his way, it could be late tonight,” I tell him, and he looks over his shoulder and grins.