Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 70826 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 354(@200wpm)___ 283(@250wpm)___ 236(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70826 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 354(@200wpm)___ 283(@250wpm)___ 236(@300wpm)
Nikita stops fussing, and with wide eyes, he stares at the sky.
“The past year flew by so quickly, Papa. The pregnancy was actually easy, and I was only in labor for three hours. Nikita popped out with a full head of hair.”
A wave of emotion hits as I whisper, “I wish you could see him, Papa. He’s beautiful.”
I take a moment to breathe so the emotion will pass, then say, “Max and I got married. I know you wouldn’t have approved if you were still here, but he really makes me happy. He’s an incredible husband and father.”
I glance over the other graves before my eyes rest on Papa’s headstone again.
“Thank you so much for the amazing life you’ve given me. I’m going to follow in your footsteps and be the best parent I can be to your grandson. I’ll always make time to listen to him the way you made time for me.” My voice disappears, and I take a deep breath. “I’ll tell him all about you and what a wonderful father you were to me.”
Lowering my head, I press a kiss to Nikita’s forehead and close my eyes.
I hear movement behind me, and glancing over my shoulder, I see Max walking toward us. I let out a chuckle and shake my head.
My overprotective husband will never change his ways.
He probably followed my tracking device’s signal like he’s done countless times before.
“This is called stalking,” I say when he crouches beside us.
“No, it’s called making sure my wife and son are safe.” He leans forward and presses a kiss to my temple. “Let me take Nikita so you can spend time alone with your father.”
I hand our son over to Max and watch as he walks to where he parked behind my car.
“As you can see, Nikita and I are in good hands, Papa. You’d be happy to know Max is more controlling and protective than you.”
A playful breeze picks up, and some leaves fall on Papa’s resting place. I reach for one and twirl it between my fingers.
“I’m happy, Papa,” I whisper. “Like honest to God, insanely happy.”
Getting up, I press a kiss to the tips of my fingers and caress my father’s name, where it’s engraved onto the granite. “I love you, Papa. Sweet dreams.”
The End.