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)
“Cameron.” A curly-haired woman in her late fifties, June I think her name is, closes her eyes, giving a light shake of her head.
“Oh, Junie. You love me.”
“If these little ones go home and start cursing, the only one loving you is gonna be that hunky boy toy you’ve wrapped around your finger…if he can even find you once you’re fired.”
Cameron waggles her brows, and the woman huffs, turning back to stacking diapers into trays.
“Boy toy?” I tease, watching as she grabs Deaton’s stroller and bag from the storage area. After out little…heart-to-heart? Yeah, we’ll call it that. After that, she and I have gotten closer. To be honest, it’s nice to know someone is rooting for me and Mason, even if she doesn’t know more than the fact that he and I have a connection deeper than friendship.
Cameron smirks my way but doesn’t divulge any info on this new guy of hers. She steps up, and I stick my hands out for my little man, a wide goofy smile on my face.
But Deaton reaches out for the man beside me.
My chest warms, and that heat burns hotter when I look over to find a matching smile on Mason’s face.
He chuckles, and a knot forms in my throat at the sound. “Come here, my man. Did you miss me?” He kisses his cheek and pretends to bite at his neck.
Deaton laughs, shoving him away with his little hands, all to pull him closer in the next second.
Finally, he looks my way and leans over but doesn’t let go of Mason’s hoodie strings.
“Well, hi, mister man.” I laugh, puckering my lips and laughing when he opens his mouth and presses it over mine in a slobbery kiss.
Mason laughs with me. “We gotta work on that, my boy.”
His boy.
I whip away, taking a deep breath as I do my best not to panic, but those words, they just seem to hit harder today. I realize he’s being playful in this moment, but I’m not naive to the fact that what Mason feels for my son is deeper than, say, what Brady feels for him.
What does that mean for my son? For the dad he never met?
Forcing a smile, I turn back to Cameron, desperate for a distraction as the three of us make our way from the building. “So, busy day?”
“Yeah.” She sighs, pressing on her chest dramatically. “We have a new baby. He’s, like, five months I think, and he is so damn cute. He’s been here a couple of weeks now, but I swear I’m his favorite. His mom is kind of strange, but she must notice he likes me, because she asked if I could be here on the days he is, and honestly the schedule worked out well enough. It doesn’t hurt that his dad is obsessed with me. He is single by the way. I made sure.” She laughs, and Mason sighs playfully. “Oh! There’re the others! Ari, wait the fuck up!” she screams, and I look ahead to where Brady, Chase, and Ari are waiting.
The minute she breaks away, Mason stops, turning to face me. I know I owe him a conversation, but having it means I have to break open a part of myself I’ve worked so hard to hide. That’s the problem, though, isn’t it? Hiding. It feels like that’s all I do, and for what?
It’s hard to explain when it’s a me problem, and to get to the other side, I have to find a way to live with my own actions and decisions…and I’m just not there yet. I need to be. For Deaton, for Mason, and for myself. I’m trying, desperately, but every time I think I have it figured out, it all comes crashing down again.
I feel like a ball of mistakes, a snowball sent down the hill that’s growing even bigger with each roll.
A million questions flash across Mason’s face, the hurt there so heavy I’m sure he’s about to ask how we got here, but I’m wrong. The pain on his face isn’t related to me at all. It’s related to my son, a fact that becomes clear when he says, “You didn’t tell me he started walking.”
I open my mouth to apologize, prepared to instantly go on the defense, but then his words register, and my face falls. “I… What?” I whisper. My eyes move from Mason to Deaton and back. “He…he doesn’t. Hasn’t.” I swallow, eyes watery and on my little boy. “Mase?” I whisper.
When I look up into his brown eyes, the sight is so tender, the tears fall, and my hand comes up to cover my mouth.
“Oh my god, he walked?”
Mason’s smile is as loving as any parent’s could ever be as he glances down at the baby boy, not so little anymore, in his arms.