Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 75616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
“Hey, guys,” Claire said, coming out of the back door, running her fingers over Judah’s head as she came to drop down onto my lap. “I thought I heard laughing out here,” she said, watching our toddler chase our five-year-old, squealing with glee.
“I’m gonna get some water,” Judah said, making my lips curve up as he popped up to do just that.
“What’s that look for?”
“We did a good job with that kid,” I told her, running my hand up and down her arm as she snuggled into me.
“He’s like a little carbon copy of you,” she said, smiling up at me. “He might look like me, but he’s amazing like you.”
“Hey, you’re pretty amazing too,” I told her.
“I feel like crap,” she admitted, sighing hard.
“If the pattern proves true,” I said, watching our daughter grab her brother and spin him. “You’ll be sick, but will have an angel of a baby.”
“That’s true,” she agreed. We’d noticed that with our sons, she’d had easy pregnancies, but really awful newborn phases. Then with our daughter, she was godawful sick, but she had a sweet, easy baby who slept through the night within a few weeks.
“Here, Mom,” Judah said, passing a cup of ice chips to her.
“You’re the best, kid,” she said, shooting him a warm smile.
He wandered off down toward his siblings, deciding to play even though he was a little old for their games.
“Are you ready for another one?” I asked.
“Ready or not, one is coming. I was kind of missing the newborn stage,” she admitted, pressing a kiss under my jaw. “Your mom is going to be so excited. Several babies in one year.”
“She’s getting everything she ever dreamed of.”
“So are we,” she said.
And, fuck, yes we were.
Claire - 17 years
“Why did we have five of these kids?” I asked Aurelio as I hauled an armload of bags in from the car, stacking them with the rest of them, spread across the island. “And why did no one tell us that they never stop eating?”
“They asked me to bring home chips last night,” Aurelio said. “Brought home six bags. They’re all gone already.”
“I think their legs are hollow,” I said. “There’s nowhere else they could be stuffing all of it.”
“Did you get string cheese?” our youngest asked, ten going on eleven, our third son we hadn’t planned on. We’d meant to keep it at four, but, well, things happened.
“I’m afraid to say yes,” I said, fishing the bulk pack out of a bag, knowing that all thirty-something sticks would likely be gone in two days.
Then I stood and watched as he tore open the bag, pulled out four sticks, then left the rest on the counter.
“I brought home subs less than two hours ago,” Aurelio said, shaking his head. “I feel like I owe my mother an apology. And about fifty grand.”
“Can you imagine how much of a nightmare it’s going to be in the summer?” I asked, grimacing.
“Is it too late to sign them up for summer camp?” Aurelio asked as there was a slamming noise in the garage before the door opened, and in came Judah, dragging two black bags in with him.
“You know we usually take trash out of the house,” Aurelio said, brow raised.
“It’s laundry,” Judah informed us.
It was almost startling how much more grown up he looked each time he came home. Or maybe that was just because of how much I missed him.
Because he’d stopped growing a few months before he finished high school, topping off at six-three. And he’d been into sports for years before that, making him wide and fit.
“I missed you,” I said, holding my arms open to him.
He looked bashful for a second, but made his way right toward me. “Miss you too, Ma,” he said, letting me squeeze the heck out of him.
“How’s school?”
“It’s good,” he said, releasing me to rummage through the bags for some snacks.
“And by ‘good’ do you mean you’re doing well with your classes, or you’ve hit up every party for the past few months?”
“A little bit of both,” he admitted.
He’d never been a kid to lie to us. When he’d gone to his first house party, he’d texted us at one in the morning to come pick him up because he was drunk.
When he’d skipped class to go to the beach with friends, he’d fessed up because the guilt had eaten at him. Even though he would have gotten away with it if he’d kept his mouth shut.
“So long as you’re being safe,” I said.
“Ugh, Mom,” he grumbled, face twisting up.
“Not what I meant,” I said, laughing at his discomfort. “But while we’re on the topic—“
“Oh, God…”
“Do we need to go over the safe sex talk again?” I asked, pressing my lips together to keep from smiling as Aurelio chuckled a few feet behind our oldest kid. “Next time I go to Costco, I can pick you up one of those jumbo variety packs of cond—“