Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 69129 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 346(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69129 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 346(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
“A smand dollaaaaa!” Wy dramatically gasps before dropping to his knees as if he’s about to worship at Poseidon’s alter. “Whooooaaa!”
She shoots me a smug smirk. “It’s better to leave seashell hunting to the professional.”
The glare she’s offered in return is attached to a less than clever flashing of my middle finger.
Bryn giggles, flicks wet sand on my flip-flop covered feet, and giggles again.
MadHatterhavemercy, that sound drives me insane in all the best ways.
And the fact that Wy’s laugh sounds more like hers than mine only makes the shit that much more magical when they’re doing it together.
I swear my world literally stops.
“What’s the rule about sand dollars?” Bryn inquires at the same time our son attempts to wind his tiny fingers around it.
“Amime no mucket, no amine muck it!”
“Why do I feel that rhyme contains a swear, Little Prey?” I playfully scold.
To no surprise, my wife ignores me to ask, “And is it alive?”
He shakes his head. “It might!”
“It is wh-wh-white.”
“And no moving wistles!” Wy carefully scoops it up to prove it. “See.”
“Very good.” The gentle boop to his nose receives his boyish giggles. “You could be a marine biologist like Mom!”
“Or marine cletarine like nucle Cay!”
Watching him put the item in the bucket I’m holding is followed by me declaring, “Am I the only one getting jewelry appraiser vibes from this experience?”
Airy laughs precede her rising back to her bare feet. “Not everything kids do when they’re younger sticks around when they’re older.”
“I would be more inclined to believe you if I didn’t know when your Star Trek origins began.”
More snickers escape.
“Dis wayyyyy!” Wyland charges further forward along the coastline, leaving us trailing behind.
Rather than rush to catch up – since we can keep him clear in our sights – I shift the bucket into the other hand and let my fingers slip together with hers. “What did you wanna be when you grew up?”
“A mermaid.” Her blue eyes somehow get bluer when they peer up at me. “I wanted to have gorgeous hair, swim all day, and talk to sharks because-”
“Fuck dolphins,” I finish with her unison.
She snickers and innocently shrugs. “What can I say? I’ve never been much of a fan.”
Which is the reason why no one has ever been allowed to gift our son that particular ocean creature toy.
“What about you?” Our fingers fold tighter together along our stroll. “What did you wanna be?” An impish expression slips onto her face. “Was it Batman? The man you ultimately became?”
“Being a hero seemed like wayyyyy too much pressure, even as a kid.” Shaking my head gets us both laughing more. “All that crimefighting? And locking them up in Gotham just for them to escape again? It’s like…when does it ever end? When does he ever get to have a grilled cheese sandwich?!”
“Your priorities have always been in the right place, Mr. Wayne.” Another round of chuckles slips loose. “So, not a superhero but a…?”
“Paleontologist.”
“Aw…” Her head tilts lovingly to the side as she curls in closer. “You wanted to study dinosaurs like a typical little boy! That’s so cute!”
“Found one!” Wy unexpectedly shouts lifting another shell high into the air. “For Gampi!”
“Could that be the reason why he likes to dig so much when we’re at the beach?” I thoughtlessly question, around an unexpected shiver down my spine. “Did I somehow genetically pass that down?”
“Hate to break it to you, Wes, but he’s just a normal toddler. He likes to get messy and make messes.”
“The reason you two get along so well.”
“Absolutely.”
More laughs bounce between us while he scurries another foot ahead to pick something up. “Does that mean that when we have a daughter, she’ll be the same way at his age?” Our stares gravitate to one another in tandem with our footsteps slowing. “Loud? And messy? And stubborn?”
Her lack of immediate response tempts me into turning back the page, yet I fight against it.
Hold my ground.
Our couple’s therapist has been advising we discuss the subject in a natural setting versus withdrawing whenever we get near it.
We’ve lightly touched on the miscarriage; however, we haven’t explored the possibility of actually trying for another or seeing what naturally happens or being content with just the one we have.
I don’t need us to deep dive into the issue.
But we should at least be dipping our toes in.
“Pokey!” Wy cries out, instantly receiving our attention just in time to see him nodding in approval. “Lurch like.”
“I know it’s unlikely given how messy I am-”
“Organized challenged.”
“-but when we do have a girl I kind of not so secretly hope she gets your neat nerd habits.” It’s impossible not to let the corners of my lips tug upwards. “Idontknow if I can handle the stress of searching for the seaweed green marker lid for an hour before bed just so that it doesn’t dry out and I don’t have to hear our child sob like they’re watching ‘The Inner Light’ episode for the first time.”