Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 90290 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 451(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90290 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 451(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
I nod. “It’s hard for me to work if you and the others aren’t working. Obviously, I’ll have to be at organized team activities, and then go back when you do. But I still have time to help get things set up.”
“Ugh,” he leans his head back and groans. “Don’t remind me about OTAs.”
“Sorry.”
Noah shakes his head. “It’s not you. It’s the fact I don’t have a contract so I’m going into this last year in limbo because I don’t know if they’re working on a trade.”
“Maybe a trade isn’t so bad.”
He squints his eyes at me. “What?”
“The more I think about it, maybe I don’t want to work after I have this baby.” I place my hand below my stomach, in hopes that at least one of the embryos wants to attach, grow, and become our child. I know there’s two in there but I’m not considered pregnant yet and it’s going to drive me mad.
Noah’s hand rests on top of mine. “Honestly, babe. I’d love nothing more than to look out and see you with this little guy or gal in the stands, rooting me on.”
“As long as we have baby headphones.”
Noah laughs. “Of course. His or her grandpas will demand it. But seriously, Peyton. If you don’t want to work, then don’t. I don’t want you to stress about a job or about my career. I could quit tomorrow, and we’d be fine. We’ve invested well.”
I cup his cheek. “I love you and thank you for taking care of us.”
He kisses my palm. “There isn’t a place in this world I’d rather be.”
My husband’s sweet. That is until his eyes drift south of where our hands rest.
“Seriously, Noah?”
“What? I can’t help it. I look at you, horny. I think about you, horny. I’m a walking talking erection when it comes to you.”
“We can't, so don't even think about it.”
Noah leans toward me and rests his forehead against mine. “It’ll be worth the wait.”
“Even if I’m not?”
“You are,” he tells me. “There isn’t a doubt in my mind.”
For dinner, we head to my parents. When I walk into their condo, my eyes widen as my grandparents surprise me. “What are you guys doing here?” Seeing them together makes me wonder what they’re up to. I don’t want to think about them dating—not because I don’t think everyone needs to find love—but because it feels awkward. Grandpa Powell dating Grandma James.
“Michael and I are going on a cruise,” Grandma Tess says.
“I’m going too or am I chopped liver?” The sound of Bianca’s voice echoes from the other room. I glance at Noah, who looks as surprised as I am.
Tess rolls her eyes. “Yes, we’re all going.”
“That sounds fun,” I say after hugging her and my grandpa. “How are you?” I ask him.
“Doing great. Things are good. Clean bill of health.”
Okay, why did he say that?
“Did you not have one before?”
He kisses me on the cheek. “I’m good. I promise.”
I worry about him. About everyone. Life’s too short and fragile, and this family of mine has known too much heartache. I’m not naïve in thinking my grandparents are going to live forever, but I’d like them to be around when Elle, Quinn, and I become parents.
Noah and I follow my grandparents into the family room, where Bianca is kicked back and enjoying a mocktail. From what I’ve been told, she’s changed a lot since Liam came back. I don’t remember much of her when I was younger, and Noah doesn’t talk about the time Bianca wasn’t around. My mom always says, it was a different time back then, but I also know she’s referring to her parents, who she pretty much disowned after my father died.
After greeting my parents and Bianca, I look at my mom. “Where’s Oliver?”
“He’s napping.”
I groan.
“He’ll be up soon. Come sit, tell us how today went.”
Noah sits next to his grandma, and we recount everything that happened this morning. “So, now we wait.”
“And how do you feel?” Bianca asks Noah.
He looks at her and smiles. “Pretty damn good. I’m confident.”
“What are the odds you end up with twins?” my dad asks.
I shrug. “Both embryos could become a fetus.”
“Or they could split,” my mom adds.
“Could you end up with four?” Dad’s eyes are wide. He holds his arms out and then shakes his head. “I don’t know if I can hold four at once.”
My laugh falls short. I can’t imagine four babies. I’d love and welcome them, but lord help me. “No one says you’d have to hold all four at the same time.”
“Equal love for all,” he says.
“Twins would be fun,” Noah says. “We’ll be happy with one, two, it doesn’t matter, just as long as our little guy or girl is healthy.” Noah winks at me.
I know he says one, but he wants eleven, so he has a full offensive line. Years ago, maybe. If things had been different for us. I don’t even want to think what it will be like to have eleven children. I marvel and bow down to the women who do.