Total pages in book: 162
Estimated words: 162567 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 813(@200wpm)___ 650(@250wpm)___ 542(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 162567 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 813(@200wpm)___ 650(@250wpm)___ 542(@300wpm)
“They just want to be extra safe,” Akara tells me.
Banks looks a little peeved at that phrase. He shoots him an annoyed glance.
Akara shakes his head, confused.
While I’m sitting between Akara and Banks, the self-driving shuttle rolls along, and my muscles feel tight. Tense. Taut. I’ll need to stretch them out for longer tonight.
The 400m freestyle final is in a few hours, and we’re on our way to the stadium.
Being there early means missing some of the bigger crowds. It’s always sweet bliss walking through a door without the feeling of being stampeded.
Akara’s words keep puncturing my spirit.
They just want to be extra safe.
I get that Jane wants to protect her baby at all costs. And I’m guessing Farrow, Maximoff, and Millie Kay all agreed that returning to Philly is best for the safety and health of both Baby Hale and MK.
So what does it say about me that I’m willing to stick around California for a few more days? I’m here for the Olympics. But is my dream really worth risking my child’s safety?
My stomach tosses.
Please no morning sickness.
I puked once when I woke up, and I’m fighting my body from producing another wave.
Two deep breaths, and I feel physically better. But maybe not mentally.
Banks whispers something in Akara’s ear. I don’t hear. I’m too focused on the palm trees outside and the desert hills rising off in the distance. A touch of smog clouds the air, obscuring my view of the horizon. I squint harder, wondering if I’m looking in the right direction of the Hollywood sign.
“Sul,” Akara says quickly, almost urgently. “I didn’t mean to imply that you’re not being safe.”
I hug my arms around my legs. “But I am taking a big fucking risk staying here. And doesn’t that make me a bad mom?” Mom. I’m going to be a mom. That word shoots panic in my lungs. “A future mom,” I rephrase like it’ll slow my pulse.
It doesn’t.
I won’t be as good of a mom as Jane. Definitely not as good as my mom. You don’t have to be Janie to be a good mom, Banks told me.
I try to breathe in those words.
I fucking do.
But maybe it’s the fact that I know the world will be comparing me and Jane, just like the world compared my mom and her sisters—and that scares the fuck out of me. Or maybe it’s knowing if I fail as a mom, that failure will be a reflection of our triad. Or maybe it’s my competitive side that’s biting my insecurities.
I pride myself on outperforming my competitors, and this just feels like a competition that I’m destined to lose.
“Hey,” Akara says, turning more to face me. His arm slides along the headrest of my seat. “Remember what your dad said about us becoming public? Just living your life is going to be a spectacle. So if you run away from every risk, you’re not going to be able to live at all.”
My pulse slows to a steadier rhythm. “But you can’t promise it’s completely, totally fucking safe?”
“It’s safe enough.” Akara is assured.
Banks lowers his gaze.
“Banks?” I question. “You think it’s safe enough?”
“It’s Akara’s call.”
“As a dad though—as parents, this is your kid too.”
He raises his brown eyes to mine. And I want to dive deep, deep into the comfort of them. “It’ll never be as safe as any of us wish it could be, Sulli. But Akara is right. It is safe enough. And one day, we get to tell the little champ about their champion mother. And how they were with her every fifty-meters gained.” He grips my gaze strongly. “What’s the story gonna be? Retreat or push forward?”
The story of our lives.
What makes life worth living?
There is no life if we’re all dead.
Being cautious or being fearless—things we have to decide as more than just a triad. We’re going to be parents.
I glance at my tattoo. “Onward.” Fuck caution right now. I can be more careful further along into my pregnancy.
The shuttle lurches to a stop.
Once we climb out to the dry heat, my boyfriends lead me towards the stadium. Sun beats down, and a tiny gust of wind cools my skin. Our steps are brisk. We’ve learned to rarely stroll. Or else too many paparazzi could catch us.
Coming up on the plaza outside the stadium, some attendees snap pictures inside the giant Olympic rings. A fountain spurts pillars of water, and kids squeal, hopping through the spray.
We have to walk around the fountain.
So far, so fucking good.
No one has really recognized me yet.
I’m about to dip my baseball cap more, but I suddenly freeze halfway around the fountain. My eyes grow, and I catch Akara and Banks’ elbows.
“Stop.”
They already see what I see.
Banks curses under his breath.
The Rochesters are here.
At the end of the mist, Will, Wesley, and Winnifred congregate around a park bench. Wesley smokes a vape, and Will chats with his brother.