Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 80342 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 402(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80342 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 402(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
Now I’m nervous about how he’s going to feel about the news. The twins aren’t even a year old yet, and they are a handful. I know he still sees me as too young for all this, and the way he tries to do most of the work when the four of us are together tells me he’s trying not to burden me with them.
But the truth is, I love doing this with him. I love experiencing their firsts with him, sharing the joy I see light up his eyes whenever Emma or Sara does something that every other child in the universe has done, but to a young father seems like the greatest feat ever accomplished.
I love the way he includes me so naturally. And sometimes it’s hard to imagine that our lives were so vastly different a little more than a month ago. Has it only been a month? How had we done so much living in thirty days? It boggles the mind.
Something’s on his mind though, I noticed it when we got out of bed this morning, but I’m too nervous to ask. What if he’s missing her? What if it’s her he wants here with him and their kids instead of me?
It was a very sobering thought and one that I never expected to have. Even though he never really discusses her with me, I get the feeling that he’s all the way done with her, but maybe that’s wishful thinking? I don’t know.
I turned back to the kitchen, where only a few moments ago, I was filled with joy. It was the first time I was cooking for him in his home, and I was excited to show off my cooking skills. He’d gushed about my rushed thanksgiving dinner, but I knew this was much better. This way, he gets to see and smell everything, as it’s being prepared.
The house smelled like Xmas with all the baking I was doing, and the soft music he had playing in the background interspersed with the girls’ laughter was the stuff I think all holidays should be made of. All family holidays. Why do I suddenly feel as if I’m not a part of his?
Derrick
I stood in the doorway, watching her. She had no idea I was there as she stood in the middle of the kitchen with a forlorn look on her face. It didn’t make sense; not two minutes ago, she was laughing and playing with the girls in the other room where they were doing their best to destroy it with her help.
I walked into the room and stood behind her, and she didn’t even know I was there until I put my arms around her. “What’s the matter? What put that look on your face?” She damn near jumped out of her skin, and I wondered where her mind had gone.
“Oh, nothing, I’m fine.” I turned her around so that I could look into her eyes. “I probably haven’t told you this before, it never seemed necessary with you, but you’re not allowed to lie to me. Now tell me, what dimmed the light in your eyes?”
What the hell happened between the living room and the kitchen? I almost checked the corners of the room to see if Lauren had found her way inside somehow. I hadn’t told her about Lauren being here last night or the fact that I think she saw us making love, and I have no plans on sharing that shit with her ever, especially not now.
The girl is a Xmas nut, as is evident by the number of gifts she had under our tree. I wasn’t sure how she did all of that shopping in the last few weeks since we’d spent every free moment together. Then again, if she’s anything like my mother, she could just call up her SA and have shit sent to the house in a day or less.
I’d thought long and hard about the gift I was going to give her. I told myself that I should wait on this one, but when someone has loved you for as long as she’s loved me, I don’t think she’s going to change her mind anytime soon.
But I had to be sure about me. I didn’t want to drag her into the middle of my mess, but the thought of her sharing what we have with someone else made me change my mind about that real quick.
Mom had been a bit surprised when I asked her for great-grandma’s ring. The 5-carat Cartier emerald cut hasn’t been worn in over fifty years and was meant for someone very special. As special as the woman it had been made for. The woman who had propelled her floundering husband into the career that spanned generations and made my family what they are today.