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)
WESLEY
“Push!” the doctor instructs.
Mackenzie bears down once more while squeezing my fingers so tight that I swear she’s going to cause them to fall off from lack of blood flow.
“You’re doing so good, gorgeous. Just keep pushing,” I encourage gently.
“Shut up! No one wants your stupid advice! It’s your fault that I’m in this situation, you jerk!” she screams, her face turning red.
I would be offended by the outburst, but just minutes ago she was telling me how much she loved me. Since going into labor, she has adopted multiple personalities.
“I know it’s my fault. I’m sorry,” I agree. She squeezes harder.
I hate this. I hate that she’s in pain.
“Okay, relax for me,” the doctor says.
She falls back on the bed and closes her eyes. Taking the wet washcloth off her brow, I kiss her forehead and replace it with a new one that’s cold.
“I see the head. Let’s go again!” the doctor calls.
I hold on to her hand and pull back her knee while the nurse across from me does the same thing.
“He’s here!” the doctor says.
I stupidly look down between Mackenzie’s legs, instantly regretting it when I see blood—lots of blood—and a round object ripping her open.
“He’s going down!” I hear someone shout at the other end of the tunnel I’ve fallen into, right before everything goes dark.
Hearing a beep, beep, beep, I squint my eyes open against the bright light above me. Someone is shining a flashlight in my eyes.
“Welcome back.” Mackenzie smiles at me, and I shake my head and sit up.
“What happened?”
“You passed out,” the nurse says while she rolls her eyes.
“I passed out . . .”
I look around, and my stomach drops. Seeing Mackenzie adjust a bundle of blankets against her chest, everything comes back to me. Baby! She was having our baby. Quickly getting up, I rush across the room and straight through the nurses moving around at her side.
“Are you okay? Are you both okay?”
“We are both fine.” She pulls back the edge of the blanket, and tears fill my eyes as I fall instantly in love for the second time in my life.
Our son is adorable. He’s the perfect mixture of his mom and me. When he opens his eyes and looks up at me, the tears I was trying to control spill over.
“I know that we were still trying to come up with a name for him,” she says.
I kiss the top of his head.
“Do you have an idea?” I ask, sliding my fingers across his fuzz-covered head.
“Dustin.”
“Really?” My voice sounds like I just swallowed gravel.
“He looks like a Dustin, doesn’t he?” she asks, touching her fingers to his nose and then his chin.
“He does,” I agree, resting my lips on her forehead. “Thank you, gorgeous.”
“For what?” She pulls her eyes from our boy to look at me.
“For everything. For bringing me back to life and giving me something to fight for.”
“I love you, Wesley.” She tucks her forehead into my throat, and I hold her and our son. I vow then and there to keep them safe always.
Seven months later . . .
WESLEY
“I love you, gorgeous, but if your mom doesn’t give me my boy and get the hell out of our house, I’m going to lose my mind,” I growl, standing above Mackenzie in the bathtub. Seeing her naked is making me hard, but I try to ignore that.
Peeking up at me, she squints her eyes. “You want me to go out and tell my mom to hand over her grandson and go home?” she asks, sounding like my request is irrational.
“Yes.” I cross my arms over my chest.
She stands up in the bath, and water skims down her body. God, I thought I couldn’t keep my hands off her before the pregnancy, but since she’s had our son, I have become obsessed—or more obsessed—than ever.
“Do not even think about it.” She holds out her hand, pressing it against my chest when I take a step toward her. “Please hand me a towel.” She wiggles her fingers.
Reluctantly, I hand one over and watch her cover herself up. Without even bothering to dry off, she stomps past me, through the bedroom, and into the living room. She comes to a stop in front of her mom, who is sitting on the couch cooing at seven-month-old Dustin.
“Mom, what did I tell you about giving Dustin to Wesley when he asks for him?” she asks, crossing her arms over her towel-covered chest.
“I was feeding him,” Katie lies, trying to look innocent.
Everyone knows that the woman is a baby hog.
“Well, he’s not eating now. So please hand him over to his father so that he can spend some time with him and I can continue taking my bath.”
“Oh, fine,” she huffs as she stands. Bringing him to me, she mutters “snitch” under her breath. She gives me the evil eye before kissing my son and placing him in my arms.