Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 71198 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 356(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71198 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 356(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
“I love you too.” He presses his forehead against mine, and I close my eyes. “You and Sam, I love both of you so fucking much.” Oh God, I’m going to cry. I latch onto him with both hands.
“We love you, too,” I say, whispering the truth as I look into his beautiful eyes; then I lift my hand to touch his cheek, which is now covered with a thick layer of stubble. “You didn’t shower.”
“No, I knew you were probably freaking yourself out, so I wanted to come reassure you that you’re not alone in how you feel,” he says, and tears fill my eyes.
“I was only freaking out a little.”
“Right.” He smiles as he smooths his thumb across my cheek. “And now?”
“I’m good now,” I tell him quietly, and he leans forward to touch his mouth to mine in a soft kiss, then pulls back when Sam starts yelling “Da, da, da!”
“Hey, big guy.” He scoops up Sam when he runs to us, and then he smothers his cheeks with kisses, making him giggle. I watch the two of them, my heart overflowing, then look at where my mom is leaning against the wall with her arms crossed over her chest and a soft look in her eyes. A look that states clearly how happy she is that Sam and I both have a man like Blake, a good man, a man of honor and integrity, the kind of man any mother would want her daughter to find after she’s gotten her heart broken.
Lying on the floor in Blake’s living room between the couch and coffee table, with a trail of cushions, pillows, blankets, and big heavy books going from the kitchen, around the back of the couch, to the front of the fireplace, I laugh as I watch Edmond and Sam try to avoid getting eaten by Blake and me, as we are both lava monsters. Yesterday afternoon, when we got to Blake’s house, Sam and I hung out while he showered; then the three of us went to his parents’ for dinner before coming home and putting Sam to sleep, then spending some much-needed time alone. It was a good day, and today has been even better, waking up in my guy’s arms, then having breakfast together with Sam, and now hanging with Edmond while Tina is in town running some errands.
“Don’t touch the lava.” I reach out for Sam’s chubby thigh, and he giggles as Edmond helps him climb up onto the couch, and Tutu follows both boys, making them giggle louder.
“Don’t come this way.” Blake reaches over the back, trying to grab them, and Edmond and Sam screech in laughter, going over the arm of the couch, and I roll to my belly and crawl on the floor, following both of them as they make their way across the trail of cushions, laughing so hard they keep stumbling. When both of them try to zoom past me, I latch onto Edmond’s ankle, and he falls to his bottom, while Sam attempts to help him by crawling on his chest, and Tutu bounces around. Laughing so hard my stomach hurts, I roll to my back, and Sam stumbles over to me before laying his head on my chest. I pat his bottom, then look up at Blake as he looms over us.
“I think we wore him out.” I smile, and his face softens as he takes Sam from me so I can get up. Then he hands him back to me. “I think I should feed him some lunch, then put him down for a nap.”
“Lunch is a great idea. I’m starving,” Edmond says as he helps clean up the pillows and blankets off the floor, and both Blake and I laugh.
“I don’t want you to starve to death, so when we’re done with this, you can help get the pizza ready to put in the oven.”
“Awesome.”
I catch Edmond’s grin as I head to the kitchen with Sam. “Do you want me to preheat the oven?” I ask, grabbing one of Sam’s baby ravioli dishes he loves from the freezer, since he can’t really eat pizza yet.
“Yeah, thanks, babe,” he says, and I pop Sam’s food in the microwave, then start it up. “I need to get him a high chair.” He kisses the side of my head as he walks into the kitchen with Edmond, and I settle at the counter with Sam on my lap.
“I have one that can hook to the table. I’ll bring it next time. I just didn’t think about it.”
“Or I can just get him a high chair,” he repeats as he pulls out a premade pizza crust from the freezer. I don’t argue; I like that he wants Sam to have a high chair here, that he wants us to be here so much that he will need one.