Total pages in book: 144
Estimated words: 134830 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 674(@200wpm)___ 539(@250wpm)___ 449(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 134830 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 674(@200wpm)___ 539(@250wpm)___ 449(@300wpm)
“Then I’ll tell you all the time.”
He tilts his head my way, like he’s listening extra close, and I laugh. “I love you,” I repeat.
His smile grows as he says, “I love you too.”
At the hospital, we rush upstairs to the Labor and Delivery unit’s waiting area. All the Harringtons are there already, except for Janey and Cole, who I assume are in a room.
“Took you long enough,” Carter teases, a smirk on his face.
“We were across town at Dani’s parents’,” Kyle answers, falling into a chair after he makes sure I sit down. “How’s Janey? Cole killed the doctor yet?”
I see Mr. and Mrs. Harrington give each other a quick look when Kyle says he was meeting my parents. But it’s Carter who says, “Meeting the parents already? You’re not wasting any time, are you?”
Carter grins as he glances my way, and for a split second, I think it’s a dig at me and start to reply hotly. But Kyle laughs. “Nope, I’ve got to get Dani locked down before she realizes what a degenerate I am.”
The brothers laugh, with Chance suggesting that Kyle ‘better get to it’ because, as Cameron says, he ‘can’t hide that for long’, and I realize that Carter’s comment wasn’t to me at all, but rather to Kyle. It’s the guys’ way of teasing and making sure they’re okay after everything that happened before.
It’s also Kyle falling back into the jokester role in his family, but he seems more comfortable there now. Like it’s not a ploy for attention, but rather, just who he is—an irreverent, funny, casual, dirty-mouthed man to their serious, staid propriety.
“How’re Janey and Cole?” Kyle asks again.
Mrs. Harrington—Miranda, I remind myself, knowing it’ll be next to impossible for me to ever call her that—answers. “She was doing great when they called to tell us it was time. Keeping Cole calm, mostly, because he was running around grabbing things they didn’t need even though their go-bag has been packed by the door for weeks now. I heard her tell him they didn’t need tongs.” She covers her mouth, but it’s still obvious she’s laughing at her son’s panic.
Kyle mutters, “Cole? Losing his shit? I can’t imagine it. He’s too stone-cold for that.” He tilts his head, considering. “I would pay to see the footage of that, though. And the tongs.” He makes a clacking motion with his fingers to demonstrate.
“Already on it,” Kayla whispers out of the side of her mouth. “Put in your highest and best offer by tomorrow at five, and whoever’s highest gets the video.”
Kyle leans over and explains to me, “Cole’s wired their place like it’s an FBI safe house—cameras, microphones, security, the works. So it becomes a question of how much I want to see the video versus how much he doesn’t want us to see it. Is it worth it?” he asks Kayla, who gives him a tight-lipped smile that doesn’t reveal her opinion in the slightest.
“Why would I divulge the value of my assets when the price is still under negotiation?”
Samantha interjects, “If it’s that good, Janey’ll show us at girls’ night.”
Kyle points at her. “You’re right.” To Kayla, he shrugs. “Sorry, I’ll wait for the late edition release.”
Kayla throws a glare at Samantha, and she waves back at her with two fingers.
And they all seem… okay. Like the blowup at dinner is a distant memory they’ve worked through. I’m sure there are residual hurts and wounds that haven’t fully scarred over yet, but they’re a family, first and foremost, and today is a big deal as their family expands.
Back on track, Mr. Harrington says, “Cole texted when they got here, said Janey’s already dilated to a six and that he hates their doctor because she’s not doing anything about how much the contractions are hurting.”
We go quiet.
Mr. Harrington puts his arm around Mrs. Harrington, murmuring, “She’ll be fine, honey.”
That’s how we sit for hours.
I get up and start the coffee maker in the corner after a while, figuring everyone could use a pick-me-up, and Kayla comes over to help me pour the steaming liquid into the paper cups.
“Mom takes two sugars and cream, Dad takes one Splenda,” she tells me, and I start Mr. Harrington’s while she starts her mom’s.
I’m stirring the coffee when she says, “Thank you.”
I think I misheard her or imagined it because she’s not looking at me, but rather, at the cup in her hand. “For what? Making coffee’s no big deal.”
She huffs a tiny laugh. “For bringing him to us. I’d say back to us, but I don’t think Kyle’s ever really been with us until now.”
“I think he’d say the same thing about all of you. You weren’t with him.” It’s not an accusation, but rather, the blunt truth.
Her nod is full of sadness and regret. “I thought I was. I did what I could while dealing with the rest of their bullshit, but it wasn’t enough.”