Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 99675 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 498(@200wpm)___ 399(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99675 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 498(@200wpm)___ 399(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
“Face down,” he murmurs with a pronounced rasp. A hard slap on the ass makes me yelp and smile into the mattress. Nope, this is real, thank heaven. “And, Jones––” New discovery: he calls me Jones whenever things are about to get really good. “You might want to bite down on that pillow.”
The Monday Night Football theme starts playing and I almost go apoplectic. Somewhere in another room, I simultaneously hear my phone ring.
“Ignore it,” I bark. When the ringing continues, Ethan breathes out a tired sigh. He leans over my body, his chest draped over my back, and reaches for his phone on the nightstand. A moment later, I feel cool air hit my skin when he springs off the bed.
“Get dressed. Camilla went into labor.”
Once baby Shaw decided to vacate the premises, he did it post haste. Calvin barely made it to the hospital in time, the baby delivered into the capable hands of his papa only an hour after rushing through the doors of the emergency room. Knowing that mother and child are safe and healthy, Ethan and I stop at the nursery first to get our first glimpse of young Connor. Plastered to the glass, we gaze out over a large swath of babies. One of the young pediatric nurses smiles at the handsome man standing next to me.
Slut. Defiler of the innocent.
I give her the evil eye and her brow quirks in confusion. It’s official, I’ve turned into Gollum.
“Where is he?” I ask, while I subtly shuffle closer to him.
“There.” Ethan taps the glass. “Third baby from the left, in the middle––Connor Shaw.”
I’ve never fallen in love so hard and so fast. The second my eyeballs find him I’m gone. Amazing how you can feel so strongly about someone who’s basically a small lump of meat with no thought process.
“Oh, he’s umm, he’s…” I can feel my face melting into a frown. “He’s kind of small. Don’t you think? Doesn’t look like Cal got a lot of bang for his buck,” I mutter. “I’d ask for a refund.”
“Hmm.”
At the absent reply, I glance sideways and find him staring at the babies with a soft smile curving his lips. For whatever reason, this motivates me to continue. “That girl baby is twice his size.” More humming from the man standing next to me. I brave another furtive glance, and yet again, find that dreamy look on his face. Which is bordering dangerously on longing.
“Kind of an ugly spud, too.”
No joke, baby Connor looks like he went thirteen rounds with Manny Pacquiao and was on the losing end of that tussle. His eyes are swollen shut and the color of his skin angry.
“Do you like kids?” His voice is lower than usual, also a tad husky. He’s working hard to sound casual but his voice is betraying him.
I, however, am not faring much better. Calling me surprised is putting it lightly. My throat closes up. Swallowing has suddenly turned into an Olympic event, the most difficult thing I’ve ever accomplished. Something seems to be messing with my motor skills.
“I mean…they’re kind of messy. And a lot of responsibility. But I would be genuinely upset if The Hunger Games was a real thing. That wouldn’t be okay with me. I would probably…I don’t know, sign an on-line petition or something. Maybe write to my congressman.”
Silence. Which prompts my attention to slide over to him once more. He’s no longer watching the babies. This time I find him staring straight at me. His unblinking gaze is hyper intense.
“How about you?” I have no idea what prompted that question and regret my idiocy the moment the words fall out of my loose lips.
A glimmer of excitement sparks in his big eyes. “I want a whole bunch. Enough for Thanksgiving football games on the front lawn.”
Good grief, he’s a freaking Duggar.
Instantly, I get a clear image of a passel of beautiful brown eyed babies hanging onto Ethan’s legs while he tosses one up over his shoulders. And now I want to go ahead and retch because…well, because I like it. Why would I like it? That’s just not me. No way. I’m not fit to be anybody’s mother. I’m not even fit to own goldfish.
In my mind’s eyes, Ethan is smiling broadly at someone, someone walking next to him. A woman. I hate her. Even though I can’t see her face I know that she’s as perfect as he is. Hanging onto the legs of the kid dangling on his shoulders, he leans down to kiss her. And that’s when it happens. I bend over and vomit all over his shoes.
Half an hour later I emerge from the ladies room clutching my stomach to find Ethan standing in the hallway, waiting for me. I look a touch less like a character in the Walking Dead, and his Tod’s loafers don’t entirely smell like the lox and cream cheese bagel I had for lunch.