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)
Once I’m finished with her body, I move on to her hair. As soon as the suds are rinsed away, she climbs out, claiming she wants to get started on breakfast, while I quickly shower. Five minutes later, I find her in the kitchen, towel wrapped around her head, and a bathrobe on. “I need to go to the store,” she says, peering into the refrigerator.
“We can do that today if you want. How about an egg and cheese sandwich?” I ask, looking over her shoulder.
“Yeah, that sounds good.”
“Did you test your sugar?” I ask her.
“Yes, dad,” she says and I can hear the roll of her eyes.
“Hey,” I lean in and kiss her neck. “I’m just taking care of my girls.”
“I know,” she sighs.
“You go get dressed. I’ll take care of breakfast.”
She nods and heads for the stairs. “Winnie,” I call out for her. She stops and turns to face me. “I love you.”
Her eyes soften. “I love you too.” She turns back around and slowly ascends the stairs.
“Thank you for breakfast.”
“You’re welcome. I have a surprise for you.”
“I thought spending the day with me was my surprise?”
“Well, then I have two surprises for you.”
“Gimme,” she says, setting her bottle of water on the table.
I throw my head back and laugh. “Come with me.” I stand from the table and offer her my hand. Slowly, I guide her upstairs. We stop just outside the room next to ours. The one we chose for the nursery.
“What? I get to see it?” she asks.
I had asked her to let me take care of the room, and to not peek until it was ready. “It’s ready.”
“How? You’ve been working so many hours, and I’m home when you’re home.”
“Well, you’ve been crashing early the last few weeks. I’ve been sneaking out of bed at night to work on it. It’s finally done. Just in time to bring home all her gifts from the shower tomorrow. You can start your nesting.” I kiss her nose.
“You and this nesting business. Do you believe everything you read?” she asks.
“When it’s in those baby books, yes. I have nothing else to go on here.”
She smiles up at me. “You’re going to be such a great daddy.”
“We’ve got this, Mommy. Now, close your eyes.” She does as I ask. I open the door and guide her into the room slowly. “Open,” I whisper, my lips next to her ear. I pull back and watch as her eyes flutter open and well with tears as she takes in the room around her.
The walls are painted a light gray, which stands out nicely with the white trim and white furniture. I picked up a few canvas prints that are pink, white, and gray that stick with our elephant theme. The bedding we bought is placed in the crib along with a new pink-and-gray stuffed elephant. The rug is in the center of the room, and the lamp is on a side table next to the white rocking chair, with gray cushions. Our daughter’s crib sits on the opposite side of the room, and wooden letters, that I personally hand painted pink, are hung on the wall with white ribbons spelling out her name.
Sophia.
I watch Winnie as she slowly turns in a circle taking it all in. I know the exact moment she sees it. Her battle with tears is lost as one slides down her cheek. “When did you—” She swallows hard. “When did you take that?”
I know she’s referring to the black-and-white picture I framed and set on the dresser. It’s next to another black-and-white picture of the two of us that Gabby took one night when she was over. I’d handed her my phone, and she’d snapped a few. The one on the dresser is my favorite. We’re standing side by side, arms around each other. Winnie is looking at Gabby, giving her a beautiful smile. I’m looking at Winnie. The other one is a picture I took of her a couple of weeks ago. She was sitting on the bed, her nightshirt pulled up, rubbing lotion on her belly and talking to our daughter. I snuck up on her and took the picture. Her hands are resting on her bump, and there is a smile playing on her lips.
“A couple of weeks ago.”
“Why would you put that in here?” She turns to face me.
“Because she needs to know how much we love her.”
“But that picture of me, it’s… I don’t want her to remember me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Big and fat,” she says, her voice breaking on a sob.
Taking her hand, I guide us to the rocking chair and sit, pulling her onto my lap. “Tell me what’s going on, Winnie. What’s going through that beautiful head of yours?”
“Nothing.” She sniffs, but I know better.
“Tell me, baby. I’m right here,” I say, wrapping my arms around her and resting my hands on her belly.