Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 92377 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92377 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Ten minutes later, I’d just finished prepping the melon ball salad when the doorbell rang.
My smiling parents greeted me with arms in the air. “Happy Gotcha Day!”
***
After coming inside to go to the bathroom, I stood watching the party in the yard from the kitchen window for a few minutes. Everything was going great. My parents were talking to Drew’s new law partner and his wife, Roman was flirting with the single mom of one of Beck’s best friends—I might have mentioned the other’s single status to each of them ahead of time—and Beck was climbing in the treehouse he and his father had spent four months building after we moved here.
And today was Gotcha Day. My parents were here, and this year was going to be even more special than ever.
From the yard, Drew caught me watching and excused himself from conversation with one of his new friends. He slipped into the house and came up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist and joining me to gaze out the window.
“What are we looking at?”
“My life.”
“Yeah?” He turned me around and gave me a sweet kiss. “Now I’m looking at mine, too.”
My heart sighed. “I love it when you sweet-talk me.”
“Last night you loved it when I dirty-talked you.”
I wrapped my arms around his neck. “Maybe I just love you.”
“I am pretty awesome.”
Rolling my eyes, I laughed. “Egomaniac.”
Drew kissed me on the forehead. “Your parents are anxious to have cake. I think your mom has a sweet tooth.”
My parents had started bugging me about the cake the minute they walked in. Only not for the reason Drew thought. The sun had started to set, and it was probably an hour past the time I should have been serving cake—but I was stalling. A sudden case of nerves had hit me, after more than six months of anxiously waiting for this time to get here.
“I promised Beck he could help carry the cake. Why don’t you make a pot of coffee, and I’ll go grab him?”
I found Beck, and he raced to the house when I told him it was time. He smiled from ear to ear, and it brought back so many memories of the excitement of my first Gotcha Day.
Seeing his son’s excited face, Drew said, “That must be some cake.”
“It’s in my room. Uncle Roman said he put it under my pillow because he’s better than a fairy,” Beck yelled over his shoulder, already halfway down the hall.
Drew’s brow furrowed; I extended my hand to him without explanation. “Come on.”
Beck’s room was bright yellow. We’d let him pick the color when I moved down to Atlanta permanently after the semester ended. True to his word, Drew didn’t complain about all the color I added to the house. Each room was brighter than the next—except our room, which I’d painted a muted gray. I’d picked it because when I’d asked Drew what color he might like in our bedroom, he’d told me I was all the color he needed. So I figured I’d give him what he liked in the bedroom—since that was the place he always gave me what I liked.
Beck stood next to his bed with the envelope behind his back. He looked like he might burst with the excitement, his smile was so wide.
I nodded to him. “Go ahead.”
Beck whipped the envelope out from behind his back and shoved it at his dad. “Happy Gotcha Day.”
Hesitantly, Drew took the thick, white envelope, then looked at me. “It’s for me? But it’s your day, babe.”
I shook my head. “Open it.”
Drew slid the documents out of the envelope and unfolded them. He was an attorney, so it wouldn’t have taken long for him to figure it out even if the caption of the order hadn’t said it all. He stilled as he read the heading, then looked up at me in shock.
I nodded.
Receiving confirmation of what was clearly written on the top of the paper, Drew quickly rifled through the dozen stapled pages to get to the last one. I knew what he was looking for—all the signatures to see that it was official. And there it was in black and white, just the way he liked things. The signatures of Justice Raymond Clapman and Levi Archer Bodine.
When he looked back up at me, his eyes were filled with tears. “How the…”
“Happy Gotcha Day, Dad. You got me for Gotcha Day! Now you and Emerie can celebrate the same day!”
Of course, it was only a formality. Drew had always been Beck’s father in both his and Beck’s hearts, no different than I was with my parents. But sometimes, making things official ties up the bow on what is already the greatest gift. Later I’d tell Drew that we’d be paying additional child support for the next dozen or so years—although I knew he wouldn’t care one bit.