Total pages in book: 40
Estimated words: 36964 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 185(@200wpm)___ 148(@250wpm)___ 123(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 36964 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 185(@200wpm)___ 148(@250wpm)___ 123(@300wpm)
“Thanks.” Amelie fits right in, not that I had any doubt she would. “And thank you for what you did back there.”
“Anyone would have done it. I wanted to see him shake in his boots, secretly hoping he’d give something away. Which he did. I watched him leave, no words to be spoken, meaning he’s being watched,” Sly replies.
“Well, by doing that, you’re on his radar now. You’ve got a secretary, one who won’t be able to handle a guy like that. The governor doesn’t go after one person; he takes the people you care about down first, ripping them apart little by little. The only time I’ll have to deal with dear old Dad is when I’m in New York, which won’t be very much, every other month for a quick trip, and he damn sure wouldn’t leave the state of New York unless it’s to campaign for presidency.”
“I’ve got it covered, even if I need to sequester her away and out of the office. Don’t you worry about me. I knew the can of worms I was opening when I held a meeting with your mom. Finding out the other stuff along the way sealed the deal.” Sylvester knows what he’s doing. I’m still going to warn him. This is my shit he’s stepping in.
“If you’re sure.” Amelie is sitting with Nessa and Millie, talking a mile a minute. The yawn she keeps hiding behind the palm of her hand leads me to believe she’s holding out on my behalf.
“I’m positive. Stay sharp all the same.”
“Always. I’m going to take my fiancée home. See you tomorrow. I’d like to know more about that little bombshell you dropped at my place.” Talking about it in public would be stupid, too many prying eyes and ears willing to do anything to run a story.
“Sounds good. Later, brother.” I stand up and make my way around the table until I get to Amelie. My hand is out. She takes it with a mischievous smile written on her face. Fuck yeah, she might have been yawning, but that twinkle in her eyes tells me all I need to. My fiancée is ready to start the real celebration, and I’m more than ready.
Epilogue
Boston
Six Months Later
“You can do this, Amelie. A few more pushes, and our baby will be in your arms.” I see the determination written on her face. I also see the tiredness. She’s been pushing for nearly an hour now, and it’s taking its toll. Amelie is dead set on giving birth vaginally, not for any other reason than because if she has to have a cesarean section, she’ll be down longer, which means less time to put what she calls the final touches on LeBlanc Inn part deux. Fuck that. It’s stupid, if you ask me. She’s got employees who can help. Not only that, Isabelle would gladly step in.
“I’m going to kill you for knocking me up, Boston Wescott!” The grip on my hand tightens. Taking her anger out on me works.
“One more push, Amelie, then we’ll have the head out. You can do this,” her doctor says between her legs. Her feet are propped in stirrups. Amelie made me promise I’d stay close to her head, or I’d never be between her legs again. I call bullshit, but rocking the boat I was not.
“You got this, beautiful. A few more minutes, and we’ll finally know the sex of our baby.” We were like water and oil when it came to finding out if we were expecting a boy or a girl. She wanted it to be a surprise, whereas I wanted to know right away, trying to push a blood test in order to find out as soon as humanly possible. Amelie wasn’t having that. A few rounds of bickering back and forth, and she won. There was no reason for me to push her into some kind of stress-induced issue, but the gloating that came from her is one I’m still living with months later.
“I can do this. I can. I know I can,” my fiancée tells herself out loud, pushing with all her might. She’s right. The woman is a force to be reckoned with. Strong and determined, not afraid to fight battles that aren’t hers to begin with.
“The head is out. One last push, and your baby will be here.” My mind goes blank. Our child will finally be here. The trials, the tribulations, the hurt I put Amelie through, and she prevailed through it all, forgiving me when she shouldn’t have, but fuck am I thankful she did all the same.
“You’re there, Amelie. So close, beautiful, so damn close.” Gone is the anger. In its place is awe as we hear the first sign of our baby, the loud wail. One last push, and then the doctor is holding our child. I kiss Amelie’s lips; tears are streaming down her cheeks.