Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 95307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
“Winnie.” My voice cracks. Slowly, she turns her head to look at me. Tears fill her eyes. “Hey.” My feet carry me to her. I don’t stop until I’m beside her bed. On instinct, I bend down and place a kiss on her forehead. “You okay?” I know she is, but I need her to tell me.
“Yeah.” She sniffs.
“Dad, I assume?” the ultrasound tech asks politely.
“Yes,” I say before Winnie can answer her. “How are they?” I ask, reaching out and lacing my fingers through hers, careful not to bump her forearm where she’s taped up, from I assume the burns.
“Mom and baby are both doing well. We were just finishing up.” She points to the screen. “As I was telling your wife, this”—she points again—“is your baby.”
Winnie squeezes my hand. Looking down, I find that her eyes are trained on me and not the screen. “I love you,” I tell her. My voice is clear, and there is zero hesitation. She gives me a watery smile.
“I printed some pictures,” the tech says, already cleaning up her machine; we missed that in our stare down. “They’ll do another ultrasound in the morning, just as a precaution, but everything with the baby is perfect. Congratulations, you two,” she says before disappearing behind the curtain, leaving us alone.
“Harrison—”
My lips pressing against hers stops her. “I love you,” I tell her again, pulling away. My eyes bore into hers. “We’re going to be okay,” I tell her. “We’ve got this.” I rest my hand that’s not holding hers over her flat belly. “This is what we said we wanted. It’s a few years later, but it’s happening. This baby…” I swallow hard. “This baby is fate, Winnie. It’s fate telling us that we belong together. I had already decided that I was going to fight for you, for us, and now—” I lean down and kiss her again. “—now I just have to fight harder. For you, for our baby, for our family.”
She loses her battle with her tears as they begin to slide down her cheeks. Releasing her hand, I wipe them away with my thumbs. “We’re divorced,” she cries.
“It’s a piece of paper.” I try to console her.
“This is not how it was supposed to happen,” she cries harder.
“I know, baby. But we’re going to get through this. You and me and Peanut.” Leaning in, I kiss her forehead. Seeing her upset like this, lying in a hospital bed, is wreaking havoc on my emotions as well. I’ve never been able to stand seeing her cry. It was my biggest weakness and why I left when she told me we needed space. I was willing to do whatever I needed to stop her tears. Looking back, I know I was wrong. I should have said fuck the tears and fought for us. I’m a man who learns from his mistakes, and I can guarantee I won’t be making this one twice.
“Everything is so messed up.” She weeps with her words. “We had this plan, you know, and now, now it’s ruined, and I’m a single mother. I don’t want to be a single mother.” I place my hands over hers, trying to comfort her. She runs her thumb over the W tattoo. “What are we going to do?” she asks softly.
I don’t hesitate when I drop to my knees right here in the emergency room. Carefully, I hold her hand between mine and look her in the eye. “Marry me, Gwendolyn Drake. I don’t want to live a minute longer without you by my side. I’m miserable without you. Marry me, and give me a house full of babies.” I grin wide, unable to hide my excitement that I’m going to be a father.
We did have a plan, but it kept getting pushed back. It never seemed like the right time with the gym expanding, but now that it’s here, and it’s our reality, I couldn’t be more thrilled. We made a baby together after our divorce was final. I’ve been lost without her. This is all a sign that we belong together. I don’t care what I have to do, or what I have to give up to prove it to her. Winnie and this baby are all that matters to me.
“Harrison.” She’s shaking her head, but her eyes tell me a different story. Her look is pleading, as if she’s begging me to make this better.
I stand up and sit on the edge of her bed, taking her hand in mine. “You tell me when. First thing Monday morning we can be at the courthouse, or we can go to Vegas, or maybe a destination wedding this time. You tell me what you want, and it’s yours.”
“It doesn’t work like that, Harrison,” she murmurs.
“This is our story, baby. We can write it however we want. I want to raise this baby with you.”