Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 67095 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 335(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67095 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 335(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
“Thank you.”
I run my fingers through his hair, and he tips his head back to look at me. I bend at the waist as best I can and touch my mouth to his, then take a step back and put on my new dress over my head. The band that wraps around my breasts is a little snug, but besides that, the rest of the material skims over my stomach and slides down my body. It just touches the floor. Going across the room, I check myself out in the mirror, turning side to side. I look very patriotic.
“You look beautiful.”
“Thank you.” I meet his gaze in the mirror and shake my head when I see how dark his eyes are. He is really in love with my pregnant body. I don’t get it, but I do appreciate that he still finds me attractive. “Are you ready?”
“As ready as I’m going to be.” He stands up from the bed and comes up behind me, wrapping his arms around me, settling his hands on my waist, and his chin on the top of my head. “Remember what you promised?”
“I remember . . .” I roll my eyes, then turn in his arms and get up on tiptoes and peck his lips. “Let me finish getting ready, and we can go.”
“Take your time.” He kisses my forehead, then turns me toward the door. Going past the living room, I head into the bathroom and finish getting ready. I hear the TV turn on. I have no doubt that he’s watching one of his guy shows while working on either the crib or the dresser we picked up from Ikea a few days ago. Both things came in a million pieces. I didn’t even pretend to know where to start, which left him on his own.
After brushing out my hair, I put it up in a bun, then put on some tinted moisturizer, blush, and mascara. Once I’m done, I head into the kitchen and pull out my ever-present pitcher of grape Crystal Light. I’m so addicted to the stuff that I drink about a quart a day. After filling up my tumbler, I take it with me to the living room and take a seat on the couch to watch Wesley finish one more dresser drawer.
“Do you think we should move?” I ask.
He stops what he’s doing.
“I know we said we would wait until after he gets here, but we only have the one bedroom, and he seems to be accumulating a lot of stuff already,” I say, looking around the living room.
Last month, my sisters threw me a baby shower, and we got so many diapers and other things that we will need for the baby that there isn’t any room left in the apartment for us.
“Gorgeous, you are in no shape to move. I’m not going to put you through that right now. We’ll move after the baby’s born.”
“Don’t you think it will be harder to move with a newborn?” I ask.
He looks around, then down at my stomach. He drops his face into his hands for a moment and grumbles something I can’t make out.
“We need to go to your parents’.” He stands and pulls me up to stand with him.
Grabbing his hand, I stop him before he can get away. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing. We just need to hit the road if we’re going to make it there in time for lunch.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.” He bends and kisses me quickly before leaning back. “Let’s go.”
I grab my bag from the top of the kitchen table and then take his hand and follow him out of the house. The car is parked a block away. Once there, he helps me in, then jogs around to get behind the wheel. Checking my cell phone, I see a text from Fawn letting me know that she and Levi just arrived out on Long Island and that traffic was horrible.
“Fawn said they just got to Mom and Dad’s, and that traffic is backed up.”
“It’s all right. We’ll make it there in time for the fireworks,” he says.
I laugh while turning to put on my seat belt.
“Oh.” I pull in a quick breath as a sharp pain shoots through my abdomen.
“Are you okay?”
“I think so.”
“You think so?” he repeats, sounding on edge.
“I . . . Oh!” I grab hold of my stomach when another sharp pain hits me.
“You’re not okay,” he growls.
I bite my lip. He’s right, I’m not okay.
“I’m taking you to the hospital.”
“It’s too soon for me to have the baby.”
“It’s not too soon.” He rests his open palm over my stomach. “He’s already nine pounds, and his lungs are developed. If he’s coming early, everything will be okay. Okay?”
“Okay.” Feeling slightly reassured, I take one deep breath, then another, as he pulls the car out into traffic and rushes us to the hospital. We call my parents and everyone on the way.