Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 97574 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97574 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
I say I do.
He slides the ring onto my finger.
Then it's my ring on his left hand. And his hands on my waist.
He kisses me with everything he has.
And then I'm flying, even though my feet are on the ground.
That's what he does. He helps me fly without the risk of falling.
Epilogue
Indigo
The warm water pounds my sore shoulders. I tilt my head, let the water work the tension from my neck. The left side. Then the right.
I turn. Adjust the position of the shower head. Usually, I use it for more untoward purposes. Not back massage.
I guess it's not that different.
Sure, I'm using the removable showerhead to work the tension from my muscles. But I'm doing it because I need to be ready for my husband.
I close my eyes. Inhale the warm, wet air, the tap tap tap of the shower, the soft music playing in the bedroom.
Our bedroom.
Enough to cover the sound of his footsteps.
He's supposed to surprise me. That's the plan for today.
If it was up to me, he'd have the entire day. The elevator in the building. The desk in his office. The bathroom at lunch.
But I'm not as agile as I used to be.
My hand goes to my stomach. I'm in my third trimester now. Past the horrible morning sickness. Well into back aches, tired feet, incredible horniness.
I didn't believe my friends. I understood the hormones. I believed mine would surge. But I didn't think it was possible to want Ty more.
To think about his hands, lips, cock more.
But I do.
I'm not sure how I do anything else.
I close my eyes. Let my thoughts flit to last weekend. His hand between my legs. His voice in my ears. His tie around my wrists.
The bright pink one he bought to annoy Ian.
The one he was wearing the night we conceived Amy.
Well. He was wearing it. Then I was wearing it. Exactly the way I was last weekend.
Thankfully, kids don't ask when or how they were conceived.
Ian asks.
Cam asks.
Sienna—
All right, maybe I told her one night, when I was really, really desperate for a sip of her tea.
I'm not totally off caffeine, but the whole one cup of tea a day thing is wearing on me. I can't wait until I can inhale a pot of Yunnan Hong Cha.
Spend a night sipping Manhattans on the patio.
Meet my daughter.
Amy is a troublemaker. I can already tell.
It's been a hard pregnancy. Hard enough Ty is incredibly careful with me. Hard enough he's talking about getting a vasectomy.
He can't risk losing me. Amy can't risk losing her mother.
That's a new card he plays.
It works every time.
Of course, I have it too. And it works better on him.
He has two people to protect. I only have the one.
But, god, I can't believe how much I need to protect her. How much I already love her.
I didn't grow up playing with dolls or dreaming of motherhood. I didn't hate kids, but I didn't have a special fondness for them either.
Then Dad died and Mom fell apart, and I stepped up to take care of Sienna. I relished the role—I'd do anything for my sister—but I felt the weight of it too.
It stole my freedom. Stole my chance to be a carefree teenager.
I knew Ty wanted to be a father. I knew he'd be a great father. But I wasn't sure I was ready to step into that role again.
Our first year of marriage, we didn't talk about kids very often. Every so often, I'd see a cute kid in a Prince t-shirt, and I'd broach the topic, ask if he still wanted to be a father.
He always said maybe, one day, after I felt secure in my career, after I finished school, after I knew what I wanted.
When I was accepted to Julliard, we sat down and really talked about it. I knew I wanted four years to consume music without distractions. I knew I needed that time for myself. The time I hadn't had when I was younger.
He wanted that for me too.
He wanted to give me the life I never had. At first, I thought it was about stability. Safety. Comfort.
Living in this gorgeous apartment without worrying about money. Eating at the city's best restaurants.
Spending time with Sienna without the mortgage hanging over my head.
Traveling the world.
Fucking on the dining table, couch, piano, balcony.
He was right. I needed that time. Those years that were mine and mine alone.
My voice came back to me the summer we married, but it took two years of dedicated practice to really feel comfortable.
Then another two to record an album, find my style, figure out where I wanted to fit into the world of music.
Some people say college is the best time in their life. I understand why. I didn't have the transition to adulthood eighteen-year-old students do.