Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 70629 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 283(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70629 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 283(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
"She thanked God for me,” I say, my voice trembling. "She’s …" I shake my head, trying to get the words out. “She’s fucking incredible."
"She is." She smiles, leaning into the doorframe. “She’s lucky to have you as a father."
I look down at the floor. “I want to tell my parents,” I say. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about." I look back at the little girl lying in bed. “Fuck, I want to tell the world."
She just looks at me. “Before we tell the world,” she says, “we need to tell her." She points at Sofia. "Why don’t you tell your parents and then we can tell her after?"
"I’m not joking about this, Hazel,” I say, and she just looks at me. “I’m going to tell them tomorrow. I’m not waiting, watching everyone love her from afar." I swallow. “It’s not fair to them." I get up now and walk to her. Standing in front of her, I lift my fingers and touch her cheek. “I’ll come over after I talk to my parents,” I say. She looks at me and swallows. “Sleep tight, Hazel." I lean in and kiss the corner of her mouth and her cheek. I turn around before I press her against the door.
Going down the stairs, I’m hoping she stops me from walking out the door. I close the door behind me. “All in good time." I barely sleep that night with the phone in my hand, and at seven, I call my father.
"This is early,” he says, laughing.
"Yeah, do you think I can come over and talk to you and Mom?" I ask, and my father stops laughing.
"We’re home now if you—” he says, and I cut him off.
"Okay, I’ll be there in ten,” I say and hang up the phone. I walk out the door wearing shorts and a T-shirt. When I got up this morning, I dressed to go to the gym, but the only thing I could do was go over my speech for my parents. I pull up to the house that I grew up in and see a little tricycle on the side of the house, and I know it’s for Quinn’s baby girl. I get out now. My heart is pounding in my chest so hard I stop walking, and I bend down, afraid I’m going to be sick. I don’t think I can handle it if they don’t accept her. I know they will, but the thought of them being mad or upset about it, makes me sick to my stomach.
The front door opens and my father comes out of the house. He stops when he sees me. “I’m fine,” I say, lifting my hand. My father waits for me at the door with worry all over his face, and when I walk up to him, I give him the biggest hug I’ve ever given him in my whole life. "Hey, Dad,” I say, trying to compose myself. He lets me go and puts his hand on my neck, his eyes on mine.
"Hey, son." He squeezes me, and we walk into the house. I can hear pots banging from the kitchen.
The pictures all over the wall have me stopping for a second when I know that my daughter’s is going to be up there. Walking into the kitchen, my mother looks over at me and stops moving. “What happened?" She puts the pot down. “Who died?"
I shake my head. “No one died,” I say, and she just looks over at my father for guidance. "I wanted to sit down with you guys," I say, and my mother walks over to me. “Can we sit?" I walk over to the living room and sit down.
They sit down in front of me. My mother already has tears streaming down her face as my father puts his arm around her. "Jesus,” I say, getting up now. “I thought this would be easier."
"Okay," my father says. “You have three seconds to calm the fuck down," he says, knowing I need him to be strong with me. "Whatever it is."
I stop and look at them. I think of different ways to start the conversation and different ways to say it, but in the end, it leads back to one thing. “I have a daughter," I tell them, and I see my mother put her hands to her mouth.
"You have a daughter?" my father asks. “Or you're having a daughter?" He leans back into the chair.
"I have a daughter," I tell them, and my mother gasps out. “She’s five." My father looks at me, not saying a word. "You’ve met her."
"Sofia," my father says, and my mother gasps out when I nod my head.
"I didn’t know," I tell them both. “I had no idea."
"How?" my mother says.
"Before I left for the military, Hazel and I," I start to say, and she raises her hand to stop me from talking.