Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 93583 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 468(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93583 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 468(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
“Did you just buy the house I showed you this morning?” he asks angrily.
“I did,” he says, coming to me, carrying the hot tea.
“Motherfucker,” He curses, and I hide my smile with my tea. “You know I was buying that for my daughter, right?”
“Yeah, except I wanted to buy it for my woman and my daughter or son,” he tells him.
“Your woman?” he says. “Did you tell her that she’s your woman yet, or is your head still in your ass?” I finally let my laugh out.
“I’m here, Dad,” I tell him, and his voice gets soft when he says my name.
“How are you feeling, baby?” he asks, and I hear the television in the background.
“I’m doing good, Dad,” I tell him. “Now, are we going to talk about you buying me a mansion?”
“It was for my grandchild,” he tells me. “So you can’t say no.”
“I can say no,” I tell him. “Just like I said no to you today when you tried to fire me and get me to work from home.”
“It was a suggestion,” he says.
“That’s a great suggestion. You should think about it.” I glare at Carter. “I have to go back to Montana this weekend. She should come with me and relax.”
“I’ll tell Sylvia,” he says. “Honey, I have to go. See you Monday.”
“I can’t even with you both right now,” I tell him, taking a sip of the tea. “Just like that, you think I’m going to go to Montana with you, and my father agrees with you. I’m doomed.”
“Yes,” he says, leaning forward. “You most certainly are. Will you come with me?”
“I don’t know,” I tell him.
“I don’t want to be without you,” he tells me softly. “If you need me or anything happens, I want to be there.”
“You know you can’t use the baby as your bargaining chip to get me to agree to do things,” I tell him, leaning forward to put my tea on the table.
“What do you say?” he asks me. “Want to go to Montana with me for the weekend? We just have a couple of scenes left to film, so it should take us one day, but we can stay there for the weekend. Maybe go on another hike, just not as far if you aren’t feeling up to it.”
“I would love that,” I tell him, and he just smiles. He gets up and gives me a soft kiss goodbye. I get up, watching him get into the truck. I place my hand on my stomach. “What do you think, little one? Should I give your father another chance?” I ask, feeling the flutter again in my stomach. “I think so, too,” I say, turning and walking to bed.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Carter
“And that’s a wrap, folks!” Ivan shouts, causing the whole staff to clap. I hold my hands up and clap over my head and then walk out of the stage and make a beeline to the house. I rented the same house we stayed at before, and I’m going to make her dinner tonight. I walk into the house and up the stairs, expecting her to be on the couch, but she isn’t there. I walk to her bedroom and see her sleeping in the middle of the bed, holding her stomach. I smile, going into my bedroom. It’s killing me not to hold her in my arms, but I’m not going to push it in case she decides she doesn’t want me there.
I walk to my room, grabbing the three pregnancy books that I am reading along with the journal I started when she told me she was pregnant. I get into bed beside her and try not to wake her. Sitting against the headboard, I start with the first book. Then I take my journal out and start writing.
We are still in Montana. Mommy is pretty tired all the time. She spends her days working, and at night, she is asleep almost as soon as she finishes dinner. She sleeps with her hand on her stomach, but I don’t know if she knows she does this or not. I wonder if you can feel her hand and know how much love flows between you and her.
I’m going to cook for her tonight. Fingers crossed that you let her keep the food down.
We love you little one.
Dad
I look over at her and see that her eyes are open, and she is looking at me. “Hey, did I wake you?”
“No,” she says, not moving. “What are you doing?”
“I’m writing in my journal,” I say while I watch her.
“Do you do that often?” she asks me, and I nod.
“Every day, I write something in it.” I shrug. “When he or she is old enough, they might want to read it. If not, it’ll be just for me. It’s sort of something I wish my parents had done for me, ya know?”