Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 98211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
“You’re not?”
She shakes her head. “I’ve been back and forth, but the truth is, I want to spend as much time with Soph as I can. She won’t stay little forever, and I don’t want to miss anything.”
“I get it. Then you can get knocked up again quicker,” I tell her, snickering at the look on her face.
“Now you sound like Harrison. If it were up to him, I’d already be pregnant.”
I shrug. “You’re a phenomenal mom, Gwenny. I think you need to listen to him and have a hundred kids.”
She throws me a look of horror. “Are you kidding? I’m setting a three-kid limit.”
“Pssh! I’m sure that husband of yours can change your mind pretty easily.”
Gwen blushes, and I know there’s a lot of truth in that statement. “Maybe.”
“Yeah, maybe.”
“So, my point. I’m staying home with Sophia and not returning to school. I don’t know if you and Chase have thought about childcare, but I’d like to offer my services.”
I turn her way, unable to camouflage my own shock. “Seriously?”
She nods insistently, a smile on her face. “Yep. I’d love to watch him for you guys.”
I swallow hard and glance back down at the baby. “Well, I’d have to ask Chase. Technically, he’s the sole decision-maker right now, so it’s up to him.”
Gwen reaches over and pats my leg. “Yeah, but that man wouldn’t make a decision without involving you somehow.”
“Maybe, but still. He’s the father.” It’s hard to breathe over the lump in my throat. It’s the first time I’ve truly acknowledged the fact that he’s Milo’s father… and I’m not his mother. Even though I’d love to be. My heart swells as I glance down at the angel in my arms, my eyes filling with tears.
“Trust me, Gabs. He wants your opinion, even when he doesn’t ask for it. This may not be your biological child, but you’re very much a part of his life.”
“It’s just so new, you know? I mean, one minute we’re boinking like rabbits and then the next a baby shows up. We barely got to post-sexy-time cuddle before an infant was thrown in the mix.”
She shrugs. “So it’s not the conventional way of doing things. Need I remind you of how Sophia got here?” she asks, referring to how her daughter was conceived an hour after Gwen and Harrison’s divorce was final.
I pull a face. “No! I do not want to hear about that. And neither does Milo. Don’t corrupt his perfect little mind with your crudeness.”
Gwen laughs. “That’s like the pot calling the kettle black, sister. Now, let me have my nephew. I can’t wait to tell him all about the time his daddy and Uncle Harrison went streaking down Main Street.”
Chapter Twelve
Chase 12
* * *
I’ve watched Harrison watch the clock, waiting for it to strike five so he can head home more times than I can count. I remember thinking he’s whipped, and laughed to myself, and sometimes out loud, to him. I knew he loved his wife and daughter, but I never understood the urgency. The need that consumed him to be home with them.
Until now.
I get it.
At work since just before eight, and I feel as though I’ve checked the time every minute since. Not just that, but I’ve been incessantly checking my phone for missed calls or messages. I’d already changed my hours to be home with Gabby. And coming home to her is unlike anything I’ve ever known. Now, even more so because she’s mine. I understand that fluttery feeling in my chest, and the excitement that courses through my veins. I get that laying eyes on her, in our home after being away from her for hours is something to be cherished.
I understand how fucking lucky I am that she’s still there. She could have run the minute Milo showed up on our doorstep, but she surprised me when she stayed. Every moment since then, there has been worry nagging at me in the back of my mind, worry that she can still leave. However, Gabby’s surprised me at every turn. I knew she was strong and fiercely dedicated to those she loves, but this… taking care of my son, well that puts her even higher on the pedestal I have her on. Not because of what she’s giving me, but for her acceptance. And the pedestal, she’s there because of what she means to me.
Love.
I love her. Not the “I love you for helping me out” kind of love. No, it’s the fluttery-butterfly feeling in the pit of your stomach, it’s the increased heart rate every time she walks into a room, and it’s the bone-crushing fear that I might one day have to live my life without her by my side. Now that I know what it feels like to have her in my arms at night, in my bed, I never want it to be any other way between us.