Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 145231 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 726(@200wpm)___ 581(@250wpm)___ 484(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145231 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 726(@200wpm)___ 581(@250wpm)___ 484(@300wpm)
They’re already perched on the longer sofa, sunk into the plush cushions.
“You have a lot of pillows for a single dude. So colorful too,” Salem watches me toss the extras on the floor as I take the seat beside her with Arlo curled up between us.
“My mom gives me another accent pillow every Christmas. It’s her thing,” I mutter. “Guess she thinks if she buries me alive, it’ll summon a wife from nowhere.”
Salem laughs loudly.
God, I love that sound.
I also wonder if my mother’s black magic worked, considering they’re here and we’re about to have our first family movie night.
The next look she gives me is lidded, more thoughtful, but I don’t let myself dwell on it as I start the movie. Arlo bounces up in his seat, impatiently tapping his thighs.
His excitement is short-lived, though.
We’re less than half an hour in when the exhaustion hits, and his eyelids start drooping. His little head drops against my side and he’s out cold.
That’s where he stays until after the credits roll and Salem’s fingers tighten in mine.
We share a silent, knowing smile.
I never knew how warm and suggestive a human hand could be until I held hers for the last hour.
I’m not sure how I haven’t combusted into bits.
In the flickering light from the screen and Arlo’s soft snore, it all feels half like a fever dream. So surreal I’m half worried I’ll blink and wake up in my boring old life.
Am I really here with my son sleeping away, holding the hand of the woman who gave birth to him?
Yes.
Fucking yes.
And it doesn’t make a lick of sense why a joker like me should be this lucky.
That beat in my chest gets stronger, though, like my heart wants to break through my ribs and escape.
“I hope he isn’t drooling on you,” Salem says as she stretches, gently easing Arlo away from me. “I’d better get this little boy to bed.”
“Let me.” I scoop him up, catching his head against my shoulder, using a softness I never knew I had not to wake him.
He stirs and mumbles—something about an octopus, I think—and we pad upstairs slowly. I’m walking him toward the guest room with a big enough bed for the boy and his mother, a perfect place for them to—
I catch myself mid-thought.
No, shit.
This is too new, too delicate for assumptions.
Still, it feels right as I carry him into the room. Salem sets his little backpack down in the corner.
That might be a good sign.
When I decided which room they should have, I picked this one deliberately.
Right now, it’s decorated in earthy browns and off-white. Modern and cozy without being too bright or intimidating.
If I close my eyes, I can see into the future, the walls plastered with movie posters. The bathroom is right next door, and he could have a bunk bed against the wall.
The next room over, a small walk down the hall, that’s my master bedroom.
Danger.
It’s scary, having thoughts like this when we haven’t even made the decision to be a family yet, but I can’t fucking help it.
They crowd my head more by the second.
Arlo stirs as I lay him on the bed. His eyelids flutter, but he just rubs his cheek on a chubby hand and goes back to sleep.
“Thanks, but I’ll take it from here,” Salem whispers.
I half want to argue that if he’s my son, I should be more involved.
Then again, she’s put him to bed for five years. It’s her domain and I’d be a jackass idiot to challenge that, wouldn’t I?
One day, maybe.
Tonight, I’ll prove I have a functioning brain.
“Okay. I’ll wait for you outside,” I tell her, holding back a balmy smile.
I still can’t believe he’s my son.
Two little words for a pint-sized human with world-shattering significance.
“All the excitement tuckered him out,” she says as she closes the door gently behind her. “Thanks for carrying him up.”
I pull her into me and she collides with my chest, breathless and smiling, even though she tries to pin the smile away.
“He’s a good kid,” I tell her. “Truth be told, today meant a lot to me.”
“Yeah? You mean it?” She inhales sharply.
“You know I do.”
“Patton, you have no idea how happy I am to hear it.” She rests her hand against my chest, flexing her fingers as she glances down at the contact. “This evening has been so special.”
I kiss her then, my animal hunger taking over, deeply enough so she comes back up for air with a messy whisper of, “We need to be quiet.”
Luckily for us, my bedroom is only a heartbeat away. The walls are thick enough to avoid too many worries about sound, considering what I paid for this place. Before we head out, she leaves an old baby monitor on the nightstand next to Arlo.
A minute later, she’s all mine.