Total pages in book: 22
Estimated words: 20337 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 102(@200wpm)___ 81(@250wpm)___ 68(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 20337 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 102(@200wpm)___ 81(@250wpm)___ 68(@300wpm)
After five years, there are no secrets between us. I know this girl like I know the back of my hand, and she knows me the same way. I never imagined hiring an assistant could lead to this kind of happiness, but goddamn. I've never been happier. Neither has she. She tells me every day how happy she is and how much she loves the life we've built together.
We spend most of that life just outside of Seattle with our boys. I lead expeditions up Rainier a few times a month. Her business is thriving. We don't get up here to the cabin now that we've got three kids with another on the way, but we still try to slip away as often as we can for a weekend alone. Nell and Ford watch the boys while I fuck my wife all over the cabin, just like I did five years ago.
Cordelia still isn't entirely comfortable with nature. I don't think she ever will be. But she no longer has anxiety attacks when we're out in the woods. She's conquered her fear…or at least put it to bed. She says that's because I make it impossible for her to be afraid, but she doesn't give herself nearly enough credit. She's the one who faces it every time she steps onto a trail and refuses to let it beat her. That's all her. I'm just the lucky bastard who gets to protect her while she does it.
"Is that a threat or a promise?" she asks. "Because either way, it's not really making me want to behave, Mountain Man. Oh! Stop at that rest stop. I need to pee."
"That isn't a rest stop, Sunshine. It's a fucking port-a-potty on the side of the road."
"Well, your giant son is sitting on my bladder, so I don't care what they call it. I need to pee," she says, rubbing her belly. "I don't know why I can't have normal-sized babies. They all have to come out fully grown, carrying briefcases."
I chuckle, shaking my head. Our boys are big. Hudson and Myles were both over ten pounds and 23 and a half inches long. Ryder was eleven pounds and twenty inches. Her belly is even bigger this time around. She hasn't been able to see her feet in three months. She never complains though. She loves being pregnant. The part she hates is when they're outside of her body and growing. She wants to keep them little and cuddly forever.
I pull over beside the port-a-potty and hop out, jogging over to check it out and make sure it's safe for her. It's not in the greatest shape, but there isn't shit smeared on the walls or heroin needles all over the place. And there isn't anyone hiding inside. I jog back to the SUV to help her out.
"I'll wait out here."
"Uh, yeah," she says. "There's no way we're both fitting in that thing."
She waddles inside, scrunching her nose up at the smell.
I wait in front of the door, chuckling as she mutters to herself. Even after five years, she's still always talking. I don't think she ever stops. Her voice is still my favorite sound. I fucking love it.
"Deacon!" she shouts.
The sheer panic in her voice sends my heart slamming against my ribcage. I rip the door of the port-a-potty open, ready to fight. She's still sitting on the little toilet, her eyes wide and stricken.
"My water just broke," she whispers.
"What?"
"My water just broke." Tears well in her eyes.
Fuck. Oh, fuck. We're an hour from the nearest hospital.
"Come on, baby," I say, trying to stay calm to keep her calm. "Let's get you back to the car. Everything is going to be okay."
"I can't have this baby on the side of the road, Deacon."
"We're not having the baby on the side of the road. We're going to the hospital," I say firmly. Paul Bunyan, save me. We better not have this baby on the side of the road or she's going to kick my ass.
I help her up from the toilet and then scoop her up into my arms to carry her back to the car.
"I'm going to leak on you!" she cries.
"I don't give a flying fuck," I growl, pressing my lips to her temple. I've had my tongue in her ass. I think I can handle a little amniotic fluid.
The first contraction hits halfway back to the car. She yelps, digging her nails into my shoulder. "Babe the Blue Ox, that hurts!"
I race her to the SUV and plant her ass in the seat, buckling her in as she writhes through the contract. I'm the world's biggest asshole for getting her pregnant again. It's my dick's fault. He can't stay out of her.
"Breathe, baby," I croon. "You know how to do it."
"Deacon, please drive," she whimpers, breaking my heart.