Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 129084 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 645(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129084 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 645(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
“We’d jump in the creek at the back of the eastern portion,” I say, pointing toward the helipad. “By the time we reached the grass, I think we were covered with dirt from more than a mile.”
“Did you have a good childhood, Noah?”
Our eyes stare into each other’s, and I was unaware until now that she had thoughts that didn’t match her sunnier disposition. I suddenly see her in a new light—good or bad—more human. I reach over and rub her back. “The best, Mom.”
“Good.”
The wiggle worm on my lap taps his feet against my chest. “Dada dadadada.”
The heat of my mom’s stare draws my attention back to her. She knows.
Her hand wraps around my wrist, stilling me. “Noah.” It’s not a question nor a command, but it sends my heart thundering in my chest. I don’t say a word, but I swear she can hear my heart pounding.
My mind freezes. Instead of filling in the blanks, I let her get whatever it is off her chest. “Noah,” she whispers as if my name is all she can say. Her gaze darts over my shoulder at the others, but I can’t read what she’s thinking when it returns to me. She takes a deep breath with her hand on her chest, and when she releases it, she says, “This is your child.”
“Mom,” I start, my hand covering hers that’s holding on to me like I’m going to fall from a cliff if she doesn’t. Max rolls into the grass and decides to make a run for it across the lawn. And by run, I mean he toddles and is not getting anywhere fast. “I can explain.”
Her eyelids fall, and she sucks in a deep breath. “Noah . . .”
I still can’t read her mind or how she’s feeling. Is she in shock? “It’s okay, Mom. This is a good thing. I’m good. He’s good.”
When her eyes fly open again, tears fall down her cheeks. She drops her head into her hands. I rush to comfort her while still keeping an eye on Max. “It’s okay, Mom. I promise.”
Raising her chin, she laughs through the tears. “Of course, he’s a good thing. Oh, Noah.” She throws her arms around me, hugging me tighter than I think she ever has. “What a blessing.”
My dad and the others rush over. “What’s going on? Is your mom okay?”
Liv scoops Max into her arms and plants him on her hip. Keeping distance from us, she watches as the whole crew comes over to make sure my mom’s alright. My girl may not be afraid of dating a reformed playboy, but she protects her son.
My mom bawls her eyes out on my shoulder as I try to comfort her at the same time. “She’s okay.” I don’t want everyone else to worry. Looking at Liv, I add, “She’s happy.”
“They’re happy tears,” my mom says, pushing up and rushing to Liv. As my mom cups Liv’s face, I can hear her saying, “Thank you. What a gift you’ve given us.”
The stoicism Liv’s held on to for what I believe is years to safeguard Max crumbles under my mom’s instant acceptance. Liv breaks down in tears, dropping her head on my mom’s shoulder. Tuesday quickly takes Max and starts playing with him. She’s so good with kids, but I know she’s allowing everyone time to figure out what’s going on to keep him from getting scared.
Lark laughs behind me. “I won that bet.”
Harbor chuckles, and then I hear a smack on the lips. “I don’t know how you knew.” Resolved in his defeat, he adds, “You win. I lose. We get salad on our pizza next time.”
“It’s not salad, it’s arugula, and it’s healthy for us.”
“It doesn’t belong on pizza.”
“It does next time because I won.”
I shake my head because these are the kinds of quarrels I dream of having with Liv one day—entertaining and fun.
Harbor’s hand comes down on my shoulder, and he says, “Congrats, you competitive little fucker.”
Chuckling, I turn, pretending to sucker punch him. He flinches, and that’s all I need to know. I still rule this roost. But then we embrace, the tone turning sincere. It’s a momentous occasion. “You made me an uncle, kid.”
“Guilty as charged.”
Loch says, “What the fuck is going on?”
Harbor shoulders him and then pulls him back. “The short version is that you’re an uncle, and Max, right over there playing with your wife, is your nephew.”
“What?” Loch asks. “I’m going to need the long version.”
They start walking toward Max and Tuesday, and I hear Harbor reply, “I’ll fill you in.”
I start for my girlfriend, whose eyes are filled with tears, love, and so much emotion that she can’t hold it in and is crying again. Lark beats me to her, embracing her like a sister. There’s a lot to be said for an only child to be welcomed and supported by such a large family. But this is what we do. One by one, they each go to her and then to me, bringing us all together as a family.