Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 94639 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94639 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
The frame is bright pink with the words “Happy Mommy’s Day!” written across the top. There are a bunch of heart stickers stuck all over the outer rim, and in the middle are four smiling faces. Richie looks the same, just a bit more cleaned up. His hair is short, and he’s wearing a suit. His arm is around Harper, who has her hands on each of their children’s shoulders. Their children… Fuck, she has children. They have children. The boy I recognize as a younger Hunter. He’s wearing a Boston Reds baseball cap on his head with a matching jersey. The little girl is a few years younger and looks like a mini version of Harper. I imagine if I were to see pictures of Harper as a child that’s exactly how she would look.
“Ella gave it to me for Mother’s Day,” Harper says, stepping behind me and snaking her arms around my torso. Her face peeks out from under my arm, and lifting my own, I wrap my arm around her back.
“She made it at preschool. It was a few months before Richard and I divorced. I didn’t have the heart to get rid of it while I was ridding the place of him.” She rambles on, “The kids have a photo of him in their rooms, but all the photos in the living room are of only the three of us.” She thinks it bothers me that there’s a photo of her ex-husband in her room.
“Hey,” I say, turning in my place to face her. “You don’t have to explain anything to me. I’m well aware you were married and you guys share two kids.”
“I know, but…”
“No buts.” I lift her chin and press my lips to hers. “These people in that photo are part of your life, and if I know you like I think I do, those kids are probably your entire world.”
With tears shining in her eyes, she nods. “They are.”
What I don’t say but am thinking is that I would’ve given anything to have been the man in that picture. To be the father of her children. To have her wear my ring. But I was too late. It kills me she moved on, especially with him. It never made sense to me. She went from barely being able to stand him, to getting pregnant by him. I want to ask how it happened, but I don’t want to go backward. What’s done is done. The past can’t be changed. Right now, all I want to do is enjoy today… tonight… with Harper. Get to know who she is now, starting with the two people who mean the most to her.
“What do you say we order some food in, and while we’re eating, you tell me all about your world?”
“You’re not leaving?” she asks, her brows arching in confusion. What the hell… did she think I would fuck her and run? Or maybe that’s all she was looking for… Oh, shit, maybe her kids are due to be home soon. Although, it is kind of late…
“I don’t want to,” I admit. “But I don’t know how it works with your kids and all…”
“They’re with Richard for the weekend.” She tucks her hair behind her ear and chews on her bottom lip for a moment before she says, “Do you… umm... want to stay the night?” Her middle finger finds a strand of hair and she twists it around in circles nervously.
Jesus, this woman. A couple hours with her and she already has me under her spell. I know one night with her won’t be enough. I’m going to want and need more.
“You sure?” I don’t want her to feel uncomfortable or regret anything in the morning.
“Yes,” she says, stepping toward me and dropping the strand of hair. She runs her fingers down the front of my body, and her lips curve into a shy smile. “I would really love to wake up with you tomorrow morning.”
I couldn’t even tell you the last time I woke up in the same bed with a woman, let alone with a woman glued to my side. When I would spend time with a woman it was usually while we were on the road and I would make up some lame excuse about not being allowed to have people spend the night. I never wanted the possibility of the feelings that could come with taking that next step. Spending the night and sharing a bed with someone feels more intimate than having sex with them.
But when Harper asked me to spend the night, I didn’t even think twice. There was no way I was going to miss out on a chance to spend more time with her, even if it’s only while we’re sleeping. I wasn’t sure how it would feel the morning after, when the sun was up and we were no longer high from our orgasms. But as I watch Harper snoring softly with her body tangled in mine, her arm thrown over my torso, and her face nuzzled into my chest, I quickly come to the conclusion that waking up with her is without a doubt the best way to wake up. And if it were up to me, I would make it a point to wake up every day like this.