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)
“Have you heard from Ginny this morning?” he asks while he pulls out toppings for the pizza. He places them on the counter, where Edmond is now putting sauce on the crust while I feed Sam.
“I haven’t even checked my phone since this morning.” I give Sam a bite of one of his raviolis, then laugh when he dances on my lap as he chews. “I hope they’re okay with my idea of them coming to my parents’ house for their first visit with Sam.”
“Right now, they need to do what makes you feel comfortable. If they’re not okay with it, they need to pretend to be okay with it.”
“You’re right.” I try to give Sam another bite, but he shakes his head and reaches for his juice cup, which he shoves away after one sip.
“Baba, dada, baba.” He waves his hand at Blake.
“I think he’s ready to sleep.” I get up and carry him around the island so I can toss his almost-empty dish in the trash.
“I’ll make his milk.”
“Thank you.” I go to where Edmond is and peek over his shoulder at the pizza, which has enough cheese for ten people and tons of pepperoni. “That looks delicious, dude.”
“Thanks.” He grins at me, then looks at Blake when he comes over with a bottle. “I think it’s ready to go in the oven.”
“I think so too.” Blake picks it up and carries it across to the oven.
“Promise you two won’t eat all of that while I’m putting Sam to sleep,” I tell Edmond, watching the cute smile that forms on his face.
“It’s not good to make promises you can’t keep, babe,” Blake tells me while kissing Sam’s cheek, making him laugh.
“You two are not going to eat a whole pizza.”
“We’re growing boys,” Edmond says, and Blake chuckles.
“I just want one piece. That’s half a piece from each of you.”
“What do you think? Can we do that?” Blake asks him.
“I guess.” Edmond sighs.
“Thanks.” I laugh, kissing Blake before I leave them in the kitchen and head down the hall to the guest bedroom, where Sam’s crib is set up.
A little over twenty minutes later as he’s falling asleep, I hear what sounds like someone pulling up the driveway; then Tutu starts to bark outside. I hush Sam back to sleep, then place him in his crib. I wait until I know he’s not going to wake back up before I grab his monitor and leave the room.
As I walk to the kitchen, the smell of burning pizza hits my nose, and I frown when I don’t see Blake or Edmond but do see smoke beginning to fill the room. Thinking quickly, I turn off the oven, then grab two mitts and open the oven. Smoke billows out as I pull out the pizza and set it on the counter, noticing then that the cheese has melted off and burnt around the edge of the pan. Then I look at the ceiling when the smoke alarm starts to blare. Panicked that Sam is going to wake up, I search for a broom until I find one, then start to wave it in the air over my head in an attempt to get the smoke away from the alarm so it will shut off.
“What happened?” Blake shouts over the noise as he runs into the room, followed by his mom and sister, who both look like they were crying.
“You forgot the pizza,” I tell him, passing the broom over, then helping his mom and sister open the windows to let out some of the smoke. When the alarm shuts off, I jog down the hall to check on Sam and find him still asleep, having moved to lie on his back. I cover him up once more, then shut the door and walk toward the kitchen, a sense of foreboding filling the pit of my stomach. The only reason I can think that Janet and Margret would come over and both look like they’ve been crying is because they know about Dave, and if they know about Dave, then there’s a chance they know Blake didn’t tell them about his diagnosis.
“Is Sam still sleeping?” Blake asks, meeting my gaze when I walk around the corner. I nod, then look at his mom and sister, who are both sitting at the counter. I glance around for Edmond. “He’s out riding his bike,” he says, reading my mind. “I told him he had fifteen minutes, which might give me enough time to put a new pizza in for him.”
“Are you really talking about pizza right now?” Margret asks on a hiss, and I get closer to Blake, then reach for his hand. “Dad has cancer, and you’re talking about fucking pizza.”
“Margret,” Janet whispers.
“What, Mom? This is fucked up. Not only has Dad been lying to us, but Blake has known all along and been living like everything is hunky-dory. Do you not see how messed up that is?”