Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 96586 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 483(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96586 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 483(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
“It is actually the little bumble bee’s bedtime,” Her mother softly insists. “Perhaps I should give you all a private moment together and go put her down.”
“Can we do it?” Ry eagerly counters.
“You mean so you can physically run away from your problems again?” Noah needlessly bites.
“No, just you.”
“Enough.” Shelly clips with a lifted finger. “I was actually hoping for one family evening that did not go this direction, but apparently that’s just too much as ask.” Her fingers gently push away strands of hair from her face. “Ryder if you and Presley would like to tuck your niece in and have a moment to yourselves, by all means, please do.”
“Thank you,” he says to her before swinging his stare to me. “Tickle Me Auntie. Help me put this little one to bed. Something tells me it’ll go much faster with you.”
In spite of my lingering irritation, I force a smile onto my face and gesture my hand to the side. “Lead the way.”
Ry stands while cooing at Shelby, promising everything will be okay soon, and I reach for a cookie to help me curve my ire on the go.
I silently follow behind them munching on the round – should be sugary – sedative, thoughts spiraling much like the shape of the staircase we’re ascending.
He’s keeping another secret from me?
How many more are there?
How many other things does he consider “unimportant”?
How many more fucking surprises am I going to have to bounce back from, pretending it doesn’t hurt that he says he’s being open with me about shit and then in reality isn’t?
Our arrival in Shelby’s room really only registers to me thanks to the fact I finally can throw the abomination calling itself a cookie away.
Ry catches my action and casually states, “I love my sister-in-law to death, but she cannot bake.”
“Was that supposed to be a cookie? Or a cracker?” I quietly squeak. “And if I can’t tell the difference, doesn’t that totally defeat the point of the food? Was that food or the rehydrated ish they gave to astronauts to make them feel like they’re eating real food?”
My boyfriend lightly laughs while walking over to the luxurious changing area.
In actuality, everything in this room is luxurious.
A bit over the top to be a nursery.
The pinks and whites and gray tones are all somewhat expected as is her name beautifully painted on the wall; however, the lavish curtains and shelves, vanity seats are not. Books and toys are both neatly put away and spread all around the room while all clothes seem to be hanging in the small walk-in closet that’s open or the dresser occupying part of the space. Given that there’s a comfortable gray couch – that probably pulls out into a bed – and a matching chair near the changing area, it’s safe to assume one parent probably sleeps in here more often than necessary.
Which is hard to say.
Could easily be Shelly due to typical new mom fears.
Could be Noah due to working Dad guilt.
“You’re pissed at me,” Ry states the obvious at a lower volume while fighting against a sleepy Shelby who isn’t interested in getting changed.
Replying should be immediate but it isn’t.
Fuck, maybe I shouldn’t have thrown the crunchy circle thing away so soon.
It could be the little lifesaver I need most right now.
“Talk to me, Pres,” he pushes as opposed to letting me simply wordlessly watch in the wings. “Don’t hold the ish in. I’m an effing grown man. I can take it.”
There’s no swallowing the spiked annoyance, “Really? You’re a grown effing man? That’s why your girlfriend keeps finding out great hand me down information like we’re at goddamn Goodwill?”
His stare doesn’t reach mine courtesy of his kicking niece. “Can you please grab her pajamas from the dresser in the closet? Top drawer on the right side.” While doing what was requested, he adds, “And you’re exaggerating.”
Spinning on my heels is done to project my words at him yet still complete the task. “And you are being a selfish little shit.”
Ry keeps one hand engaged with his cranky niece but reroutes his gaze to me. “The fuck did you just say to me?”
Ooo.
See.
This.
This is why I silence myself versus having the hard talks.
It’s so much easier to eat and shutdown.
Rather than repeat myself, I spin around again to face the direction I need to go. Collecting the little outfit is easily down; however, I drag my speed to prevent from having to face the consequences of speaking in anger.
Which I know, I know you’re like never supposed to do in a relationship, but I once heard Katherine call Carter an Olympic Prick, so like everyone makes mistakes.
Upon my arrival, I hold the outfit for him to take.
And he does.
Not another word is said or look exchanged until Shelby is in a fresh diaper, fresh clothes, and ready for a bedtime story.