Total pages in book: 151
Estimated words: 140874 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 704(@200wpm)___ 563(@250wpm)___ 470(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 140874 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 704(@200wpm)___ 563(@250wpm)___ 470(@300wpm)
Well, more than we’d already committed to that, at least. We were pretty “together forever” already.
“June seventh?” Emma asked, looking nervously to Michael.
Neil frowned. “Is there something wrong with the date?”
“It’s, um…” Emma reached for Michael’s hands. “It’s just that I’m due June twenty-third.”
I wanted to gasp. I heard myself gasp. But I didn’t, because every essential bodily system seemed to be on arrest.
“Due where?” Neil looked between them, utterly oblivious.
But only for a moment.
He got up from the table, nearly knocking his chair over, and hurried around to reach Emma. She’d barely gotten out of her seat when he swept her up in a crushing hug. His face was red with the effort of restraining his emotions, but he finally gave in, crying happy tears against her head. “Oh, Emma. My sweet girl.”
I jumped up too, my own eyes watering. Emma stepped back from her father and met my extended arms with her own. She hugged me tight, her chest hitching with happy sobs. “The last round implanted—well, one of them did.”
Neil held out his hand to Michael, but brought him in for a hug instead. I never thought I’d see Neil happy that Horrible Michael had laid a hand on his precious daughter, and that added to my elated giggles. Maybe the fact that it had been an IVF conception had allowed him to remain in a state of denial.
He hugged Emma again, an arm around her shoulders. “I’m in shock right now. I’m going to be a grandfather.”
“Yes, you are,” Emma agreed proudly. Then she directed a very stern glare at her father. “No puppies under the Christmas tree.”
“Twenty. I will give this baby an entire legion of puppies. This is going to be the single most spoiled child in America,” Neil vowed.
“Hey,” Michael said with a wide grin at some realization. A realization that rolled out in one terrible, bone-chilling sentence: “Sophie, you’ll be a grandma!”
I sensed a very stiff drink in my future.
I sensed six or seven very stiff drinks in my future.
But weird family stuff was what I signed on for, and I’d known that coming in to Neil’s life. What the hell. If they thought it was funny to call me a twenty-six-year-old grandma, let them.
The Birkin would make a great diaper bag.