Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 77728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
The fact that he already knows me so well melts my insides like butter over warm bread. I wrap my arms around his hips, pressing my brow to his abdomen. “Today was one of the hardest days in a long stretch of very fucking hard days.”
“Looked like you had some fun playing with baby Joey,” Cal says.
“He’s so sweet. I look at him and I just want to hold him close so nothing bad can ever reach him.”
Cal pets the back of my head like it’s a sleeping cat.
“Think you might want your own kids someday?”
I inhale deeply. “I never really thought about it.”
It sounds like a lie, but it’s the truth. I’ve dreamt about feeling safe and secure enough to consider having a family. Taking the extra step of imagining myself with a kid always felt like setting my future self up for a fall.
In theory, I know it’s possible to be a good parent even if you didn’t have one yourself. In practice, I doubt I’d even know where to begin.
Memories of my own mother are hazy and amorphous. I remember her shouting, grabbing me by my arm, dragging me along behind her. My father is a black hole in the fabric of my memory. Maybe it’s my mind’s way of protecting me from things I’d rather not know. Or maybe he just wasn’t around very much. In place of memories of him, I’m left with a void in the shape of his absence.
I’m sure I’ll have to unpack all of that someday, but today is not that day.
“Right now you’re focused on finding McKenzie,” Cal says. “But when this is all over, and your friend’s home safe, I want you to let yourself think about the future. Ask yourself what Holly wants.”
I tilt my head back to look at his face, and the view from where I’m seated reminds me of what we did last night, when I sucked his cock for the first time. The thought sends a flood of warm tingles from the back of my head all the way down to my pelvic muscles.
“There is one thing I’ve always wanted,” I say.
“What’s that, baby?”
It’s so simple and basic that I feel silly even saying it.
“I’ve always wanted a house.”
“Yeah?” His mouth curves. “Tell me about it. Paint me a mental picture of your dream house.”
“I don’t know.” I fiddle with the hem of his boxers. “Something old, but not rundown. I guess classic would be a better word. Soft, pastel-colored walls and wood trim. With a big back porch and tall trees in the yard.”
“Sounds picture perfect,” he says. “I have been thinking it might be time to invest in something permanent.”
My thoughts run in fifty different directions, like stray cats in a barn, imagining what our kitchen would look like. Our backyard. Our main bedroom. Not that Cal’s house would be mine, unless we were married...
As Kenzie would say, slow your roll, baby doll. He hasn’t even popped your cherry.
“Have you ever thought about being a dad?” I ask, turning the spotlight on him.
“A long time ago, sure,” he says. “My ex and I tried after we first got married. Gave up after it didn’t take.”
“Oh.” My arms fall to my sides. He’s never mentioned an ex-wife before, though in all fairness, I never asked if he’d been married. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” He kneels on the carpet in front of me and takes my hands. “She and I called it quits years ago. She couldn’t handle a cop’s schedule and, to be honest, I was too caught up in my work to be an attentive husband, let alone a good dad.”
I nod like I understand, but the gesture feels phony. I guess this is par for the course when you date someone older; all the years between the two of you were years the other person spent living while you were learning to ride a bike without training wheels. Cal can’t help that he had a life before I came along. Just the same, I can’t help feeling insecure about it.
He loved someone enough to marry them. I want to pull my hands into my lap, curl up like a baby hedgehog, and roll away from this conversation.
“I know what you’re wondering.” He presses my palm to his cheek. “Do I still love her?”
My stomach twists. I nod.
“No,” he says. “In fact, I realized soon after we ended things how much my feelings toward her stemmed from a sense of obligation. She wanted to get married. I thought it was what men my age did, so I bought a ring.”
His openness about his marriage comforts me, even if I still don’t like talking about it.
“I think she assumed I’d be working less after we got hitched,” he says. “That didn’t happen. She got unhappy. I was never happy to begin with. When I’m on a case, I get consumed, and that doesn’t leave much room for other commitments.”