Total pages in book: 150
Estimated words: 147136 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 736(@200wpm)___ 589(@250wpm)___ 490(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147136 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 736(@200wpm)___ 589(@250wpm)___ 490(@300wpm)
I moaned and melted closer.
Forehead kisses from Brian were the best.
“Make a list for the store,” he ordered. “I’ll go.”
I smiled, then turned to Olivia, who was still watching us, and gave it to her.
“Ready to play hair salon?”
She was ready, and she showed that by dropping her iPad on the couch like it was on fire and trading it for a bubblegum pink case she pulled out of her duffle, holding it above her head with both hands and nodding frantically.
I wanted to eat her up. She was the cutest.
After making Brian a list of ingredients, I sat on the floor in front of the couch and let Olivia brush, twist, braid, pull, and tease my hair, accessorizing me with nearly every clip she had, all while listening to her gab about Minecraft, some show about a gumball, and her brother, who was older by ten minutes.
Then we switched places and I made her hair super pretty, as requested.
* * *
The kids loved making their own pizzas, which both ended up being extra sauce and two types of cheese after Olivia heard what Oliver wanted and changed her mind from her original plan, lots of pepperoni.
It was sweet how she wanted to keep with what he had, and according to Brian, it happened a lot and Oliver was the same with her.
I wanted to eat Oliver up, too.
Seriously, these kids were the sweetest things in the world.
We had our slices of pizza on the beach, picnic style on a blanket, then the two of them ran around for a bit and got in the water but only up to their knees, keeping their clothes dry.
When it was time for dessert, we headed back inside and I popped the s’mores pizza into the oven while Brian sat on the couch between the kids and cued up a movie on Netflix.
I could see the top of Olivia’s wildly accessorized head. It was resting on Brian’s shoulder. Oliver’s wasn’t but he was sitting close enough I knew he was leaning against him, too.
It looked natural. All three of them cozying together. The scene struck deeper than witnessing a doting uncle spending time with his niece and nephew. It warmed my heart so much more than I was expecting, blooming unfamiliar hopes and dreams and wishes inside me. I stood next to the island for long silent minutes, taking shallow breaths and staring at the three of them as fear and longing spread through my soul.
I wanted kids.
For the first time in my twenty-four years of life, I wanted kids.
I, Sydney Whittaker, wanted to be a mom.
Holy …shit.
I was either going to pass out right here, throw up, or start crying. One of those three things was bound to happen.
Brian turned his head and peered at me over the couch.
“Coming over?”
I sucked in breath through my nose, feeling it tingle as my eyes watered.
Option three. I was going to start crying.
Brian noticed my change in demeanor and craned his neck farther to question it.
“You all right?”
I needed to get a handle on my emotions. This was a happy night, and I didn’t want my newfound desire for kids bringing down the mood in the room.
But seriously, this was life changing and warranted a minute of freak-out, at least.
Just not right now.
Needing to find my composure since I had eyes on me, I turned my head and looked at the wall by the slider, focusing my gaze on the eight-by-ten picture that hung there of Jamie on the beach, sun beaming down on him, board in hand and a shiny gold medal around his neck.
My nose stopped tingling and my eyes dried up.
Idiot.
“Syd?”
“Perfect,” I answered, calmed and confident, then walked across the room and rounded the couch. I smiled at Brian, gave a little of it to Oliver, then shined it all on Olivia as I sat down next to her. “I’m perfect.”
She smiled back and giggled when I shook my hair and made the clips clack against each other.
I hadn’t taken all of them out yet.
“Can you turn the fireplace on, Uncle Brian?” Olivia asked, tilting her head up. “My toes are cold.”
Brian stood from the couch, walked over to the wall next to the slider, and flipped a switch. The fireplace made a clicking noise like a burner on a stove, then roared to life seconds later.
Olivia hopped off the couch as Brian reclaimed his seat and moved to the floor so she was closer to the fire, stretched her legs out in front of her, and wiggled her feet. Then she looked over her shoulder at Oliver and pushed her glasses higher on her nose.
“Ollie, come down here and watch.”
He joined her without protest, sprawling out on his stomach and tilting his head back to watch the movie, knees bent and feet kicking the air.