Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 125866 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 629(@200wpm)___ 503(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125866 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 629(@200wpm)___ 503(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)
I wish I could say I was elated, that I cried tears of joy and dreamed of the child I was growing inside me and what they’d be when they grew up. I wish I could say I ran to my husband and celebrated.
The truth was that I fell to the floor in the bathroom, covering my mouth and shaking my head, convinced I wasn’t actually seeing those two lines.
I was scared when I told Marshall. I was scared when we went to the doctors’ appointments. I was scared when my mom talked me through what to expect and most of all, I was scared of being a mother.
I was scared I wouldn’t be a good mother.
My fears never went away, but they did fade the moment the doctor put Sebastian in my arms. Suddenly, fear took a backseat, and the most primal feeling took its place behind the wheel.
I knew, no matter what, I would protect him with my life.
“Can we try to get the spoon in your mouth, Sebastian?” I teased from the other side of the kitchen island, reaching over to wipe up the bit of milk that had splashed next to his book. He had it splayed open with one little hand while the other unsuccessfully navigated spoonfuls of Honey Nut Cheerios into his mouth.
He giggled a little when I wiped up the milk and then tapped his nose with the rag. I was just thankful he was feeling better, that his little display of projectile vomiting at his father’s seemed to be a one-night bug and not something that knocked him down for a week.
“You like that one,” I said, nodding at the book.
“It’s okay.”
“Just okay?” I asked, continuing where I was packing up his lunch. “You’ve been laughing all through breakfast.”
“It’s funny, but I like the history books better.”
I wrinkled my nose. “History?”
This kid was so much like me in so many ways — from the shape of his eyes and nose to the way I had to all but drag him out of bed in the morning — but his love for reading, for knowledge?
He didn’t get that from me.
“What history books are you even reading?” I asked, trying to rack my brain for what I was reading when I was his age. I followed up that question by holding up a banana and a mandarin.
Sebastian looked up long enough to point at the orange, and then his nose was in his book again. “Well, like we just read a book about Abraham Lincoln.”
“Ah,” I said, zipping up his lunch cooler. “Honest Abe.”
Sebastian’s deep brown eyes widened. “You knew him?”
I loved the laugh that barreled out of me. It was the laugh only my son could conjure, one of pure surprise and adoration. “No, baby. He was a little before my time.”
Sebastian seemed thoughtful as he digested my answer, and then he went right back to reading and spilling more of his cereal than he ate. “Well, I bet you would have been friends.”
“You think so, huh?”
He nodded, and then around a mouthful of cereal, he added, “You both love to help people.”
For a moment, I watched him, my heart squeezing painfully in my chest as I did. I loved him so much it physically hurt. I didn’t know that was possible before I was a mom. I thought I knew what love felt like, but I had no idea. Not really.
Not until I had him.
“Alright,” I said when he started slurping his milk from the bowl. “Go brush your teeth and I’ll come in to help you get dressed.”
“Can I wear my rock shirt today?!”
And by rock, he did not mean music. He meant geo.
“You wore that shirt twice last week,” I reminded him.
He blinked. “Is that a bad thing? You wear the same clothes a lot.”
He had me there.
“Not a bad thing at all,” I told him, rounding the island to kiss his hair. “Now go brush those stinky teeth.”
“I’m not stinky!” he protested as he hopped down from the bar stool.
“Hmm, let’s investigate.” I made a show of lifting his arm and taking a big whiff before I pretended to gag, and he giggled the deep-belly laugh that I wished I could bottle up and save forever.
Then, the angel that he was, Sebastian took his bowl to the sink, standing on his tiptoes to drop it inside before he grabbed his book and ran back toward his room.
I let out a happy sigh, running one hand through my hair as I watched him go. Then, I checked my watch, and my stomach sank.
I was meeting Kyle in an hour.
After our dinner, I’d almost been tempted to call the whole thing off. Being in close proximity with him after all these years was making my brain short wire. Add in the way he had looked at me when I told him I had a son, the way he looked almost like… like he was in awe.