Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 131821 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131821 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
“Mason.”
“Yeah?” My voice is scratchy, so I clear it and try again. “Yeah?”
“Sit down,” she says softly.
Finally, I look up at her, and my shoulders ease when I spot the blanket thrown over her shoulder, the baby hidden behind it.
“Are you blushing, Mr. Johnson?”
I scowl, and she chuckles, dropping her back onto the mass of pillows behind her.
“I am not blushing.” Okay, so my face does feel a little warm. Sighing, I raise a brow, and she smiles, but it grows a little anxious as I lower beside her. “Okay, I’ve never actually seen anyone breastfeed before so…I mean, yeah, I guess I was a little nervous, but only ’cause I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
She nods, peeking under the blanket before looking back. “Yeah, honestly, it was kind of awkward at first, especially at the hospital. The nurse would just…walk in and stare to see how he was doing and make sure he was, well, you know, that it was all going how it was supposed to. Maybe it seemed strange to have people watching because I was young or maybe because it was new, I don’t know, but after a while, it just felt natural.” She shrugs, glancing over at me.
“Can you feel him?” I wonder. “I mean, does it hurt or…”
“I know when he’s eating and when he stops, but it doesn’t hurt, not anymore. Like right now,” she says softly, then her arms start to move under the blanket, and instead of his little toes poking out beside me, a bit of dark hair appears. She’s switched sides. She looks at me then. “How come you’re not nervous with him?”
“How do you mean?”
“I mean to hold him or play with him. I swear Parker freaks out if he moves in his arms, and don’t get me started on Nate. He goes stiff and starts to panic if he cries for five seconds.”
“I hate that they see him more than I do.” The words fly out before I realize they’re coming, and my eyes snap her way. “I mean…” I try to backpedal.
“You meant what you said.” Payton’s features are soft as she whispers, “You hate that they see him more than you can.” She chews on her lips, gaze moving between mine. “I like that you hate that.”
“You do, huh?”
She nods. “I like how much you care. How often you call to talk to him, even when he might not know it. I like how you check in on him, sometimes without saying a word about me.”
“I’m always wondering what you’re doing and wanting to check in on you.”
“I know, and I like that, too.”
A question that’s crossed my mind pops up, and I force myself to ask it. “Do you think Deaton would have liked me much?”
I don’t know what I expected, but Payton’s smile spreads wide, and my heart thumps heavy in my chest, doubling when she says, “I know he would. I talk to him about you sometimes, in my dreams I mean.” Her cheeks pinken, but I don’t have time to consider why she would be embarrassed to admit that, because she just admitted that.
She talks to him…about me.
That’s no small revelation.
That’s a gauntlet thrown into still waters, creating a rippling effect that expands to the very edge of who I am and what this means to me. A complete change in the foundation of what I feel for this girl is built on.
My eyes hold hers, and then a tiny hand appears, fist latching on to the edge of the blanket covering her and tugging it down until his little face appears.
His eyes snap up to mine, his mouth, still wrapped around his mama, curving into a gummy smile before closing around her once more.
My eyes lift to hers, and when I find hers already on me, I reach over, running my thumb along her lips. “I—” want to kiss you so fucking bad, Pretty Little. I swallow. “I’m going to step out on the balcony,” I say instead.
I see a flash of disappointment sparking in her baby blues, but I can’t think about that right now, so I convince myself I imagined it.
Outside, I take a deep breath, trying to calm the wild waves of emotion raging inside me. When I lift my head, I let my gaze travel over the place, the pool and play zone quieter than it was last night and the restaurant twice as busy as earlier. But what really gets my attention is the rope lights to the far right, what looks to be a reception in full swing.
“I guess this is what they mean when they say fairy-tale wedding?” Payton steps up, folding her hands over the railing. She must see the question, answering before it’s asked. “He’s out. Not sure I have the heart to put him in the stroller to make it to the spa, though.”