Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 75642 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75642 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
I send Mila a glance when our child reaches for one of the mushrooms sitting on top of my plate. I hand it over to the little girl, watching her pull it from the tines of my fork with her hand after Mila nods, telling me it’s okay to give it to her.
Mila is a good mom. She’s attentive. Despite her exhaustion, I haven’t heard her raise her voice once to the kids. She made Luca a promise about tearless shampoo, and she kept it. I witnessed that entire conversation between the two of them, and I even forgot about the shampoo until it was mentioned again last night at bath time.
Dinner continues with no more conversation about right and wrong choices. The trip to the hotel is uneventful, a text from Wren coming in just as we pull up outside letting me know that Adrian Larrick and all of his other men are accounted for in St. Louis.
Mila runs through another bath routine for all three kids, and I step out to call Kincaid and give him updates. He doesn’t brag about being right with traveling with kids, and for that I’m grateful. There’s a huge learning curve when it comes to kids, and as willing as I am to learn, I also appreciate the grace provided when I end up in a situation where I get it wrong.
Mila is standing in the middle of the room when I reenter.
“Do you mind keeping an eye on them while I shower?”
“Sure,” I tell her. “But I’m here to help. Please never hesitate to ask.”
She doesn’t look very impressed with my offer, but since I made it because I mean it, I let it go. I’m not the type to say call me if you need me then ignore the call when someone’s name pops up on my screen.
“Can you read us another story?” Luca asks from his spot on the bed.
I smile, surprised they want to be read to from my phone rather than watch something on television until it’s lights out time.
“I can,” I say, kicking off my boots. “But you’ll have to scoot over.”
I pick Sutton up out of the crib, giving the boys time to make room by squeezing in closer, before dropping down to sit with my back against the headboard.
Sutton ends up sitting near my hip, forcing the boys even closer together to give her room.
“Any requests?”
“I liked the one from last night,” Jace says, his brother quickly agreeing with him.
I pull up the books app on the phone and start reading.
Chapter 20
Mila
There hasn’t been much in life these days that has had the ability to make me smile, but I couldn’t pull the grin from my face at the sight of Vincent and the kids if I tried.
My shower was slow. I spent much of it with my head against the wall, allowing the water to pound down my back. I’d never complain to him because I’m not the one driving, but my back is killing me from these long hours in the vehicle. I’m used to being on my feet all day at the salon which comes with a different set of aches and pains.
As quietly as I can, I pull my cell phone from my purse and snap a few pictures. The kids are asleep in the bed with Vincent, the boys to the left of him, and Sutton is curled up on his chest. Vincent’s hand is on her back, protecting her from falling if she tries to move.
The man is passed out, no doubt exhausted not only from driving but wrangling kids. Being a parent is both rewarding and one of the toughest jobs I can imagine, and he’s been thrust into it. Even as willing as he says he is, it still takes a toll.
Our daughter has never had what he’s capable of providing, and although I never stood up and reached out to him, I know I’ve deprived her of something special. I have to wonder how she’ll feel about what I did when she’s older. Will her not being able to remember the time she lost make it easier? Will she hate me? Will her opinion be based solely on his opinion?
I set my phone on the bedside table, trying my best not to get lost in my own emotions, and reach for her.
His hand snaps out immediately, grabbing my arm before I can pull her from his chest. He loosens his grip in less than a second, but instead of pulling his hand away completely, he uses his deft fingers to brush a damp strand of hair from my cheek. My throat works on a swallow, because it feels incredibly intimate with me bending down close to him.
“Sorry,” he whispers.
“For what?” I manage, confused because my brain is having a hard time staying online right now.