Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 100441 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100441 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
“Both, come to think of it.”
Maggie settles. “Okay, let’s do this.”
We get out of the car, and I let her go first.
I’ve seen countless social media posts, videos, and stories of vets coming home to surprise their families.
I may have even shed a tear over a couple of them.
But as I watch Maggie walk in and every eye turns to her, my vision gets blurry as little Kaylee’s eyes widen.
She yells out, “Mommy!” and jumps up from her spot on the floor where they’re all playing duck, duck, goose.
As if in slow motion, they move toward each other as fast as they can, but it still feels like minutes instead of seconds for them to meet.
And no video can compare to seeing this kind of reunion in real life. I bawl like a damn baby.
Maggie’s long arms embrace Kaylee’s small frame.
It’s been nine months since Kaylee has seen her mom, and they both cry as they hold each other tight.
They’re crying, I’m crying, half the frickin’ rec center is crying.
Then I meet Ryder’s gaze.
He’s not crying. Nope. He looks pissed.
Chapter Fifteen
Ryder
Maggie’s here. Like here here.
Every time she turns up like this—and it’s always by surprise, always blindsiding me—I can’t help dreading it.
Not because she’s a bad person, because she’s really not. She’s a great mom when she’s present, and she’s a wonderful human being.
But I know what’s coming because it always does.
She leaves again, and then I have to pick up the pieces with Kaylee. I have to explain to our daughter why Mommy’s gone again.
I honestly don’t know how army spouses deal with it.
The hardest part of parenting isn’t the bed-wetting, the tired tantrums, or the boundary pushing. It’s seeing your child hurt without being able to do anything to soothe them.
When Maggie pulls away from Kaylee and our eyes meet, my apprehension is replaced with the warm affection I’ve always had for Maggie.
She runs for me, throwing her arms around me and sobbing into my shoulder.
“Geez, you’re always so emotional,” I blubber.
She pulls back to wipe her eyes.
I hug her again. “I have to get the important question out of the way first. How long are you home for?”
Her eyes seem heavy and puffy, but I don’t think it’s from the crying. “We’ll talk, okay? Right now, I want to spend some time with Kaylee and just decompress.”
“No problem. Wait …” My gaze goes above her head to where Lyric stands, half his hair falling out of his man bun and his clothes from yesterday disheveled.
“Ah, yeah, your nanny brought me here.” Oooh, look, her smug expression hasn’t changed from when we were kids.
“He is my nanny. I mean Kaylee’s nanny. I don’t need a nanny. I can look after myself.”
“Sure you can. And sure he is.” She pats my cheek.
“I want to tell you to eff off right now, but that’s probably not the best choice of words to use here.”
“Whatever, you love me. Always have.”
I roll my eyes. “You know how much I love you turning up and surprising us.”
“You pretend to hate it, but you really don’t.”
No, no, I really do. She just doesn’t believe me.
“The only thing I like about it is that it makes Kaylee so happy.” I nod in her direction. She’s gone over to Lyric to pull him toward us.
“Mommy, this is my Lyric.”
Maggie kneels to her level. “Your Lyric, huh? He was nice enough to drive me here so I could see you, so I guess he really is yours.”
Something out of the corner of my eye catches my attention. It’s someone with a phone. No, it’s a lot of someones with a lot of phones. And they’re all pointed at us.
“Shit,” I mutter.
“Daddy—”
“Not now, bub.” Umm, umm, fuck, what to do. I turn to Maggie and hand over my car keys. “Can you take the car and get Kaylee back to the house? Lyric and I will try to get everyone to delete whatever they’ve taken. Photos, videos.”
Maggie goes into tactical mode, whisking our daughter away as fast as possible so Lyric and I can face everyone.
The rec center doesn’t only have playgroup people but others as well, so asking everyone to delete their shit is going to be hard.
“How do you want to handle this?” Lyric asks.
“The only way I know how.” I step forward and raise my voice so everyone in the hall can hear. “Hey, everyone. I’m happy to have photos taken, sign anything, send a Happy Birthday video to your daughter, mom, sister, whoever, but I’d appreciate it if you could delete anything you’ve already taken of my daughter or her mom. I don’t like when Kaylee’s put on social media or her photos hit tabloids. I’m sure you can all respect that. Thanks.”
“I was gonna go with low-level threats, but this works,” Lyric says under his breath.