Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 116031 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 580(@200wpm)___ 464(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116031 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 580(@200wpm)___ 464(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
Hit me where it hurts indeed.
She shouldn’t make this easy, but I didn’t know how my emotions would feel either. They’re a scratchy, ill-fitting wool sweater. This is the path I chose, so I have to walk it. I reply:
Memorial Day weekend is set. Thank you.
Cat:
I didn’t have a choice.
I stare at the message for probably too long, trying to read between the lines. Does she mean it, or is she teasing me? Although I struggle to read the meaning she’s intended through text, she’s not entirely wrong.
Feeling heavier after reading that finale of a line, I stand and go inside. I’ve caused enough damage already. I text:
You always have a choice with me, Cat. I’ll send you the details. You can decide what you want to do from there.
I stare at the screen for a few minutes before I add:
Good night.
She replies:
Good night.
I got what I wished for. Don’t fuck it up, Faris.
22
Shane
“Fucking hell.”
“Language,” Poppy calls from the kitchen.
“Mack just spit up again.” I hold the plump baby in front of me. He giggles as if this is part of his evil plan. “Even vomiting on one of my favorite T-shirts can’t make me dislike you, kid.” He got the Faris blue eyes, bright and jolly, and is the happiest baby. He likes to be held all the time and has taken to me since we met at the hospital last November. That’s fair. I am pretty fucking awesome. I kiss his head because he’s pretty awesome, too.
Laird comes with a package of wipes and swipes Mack out of my hands. Holding him up so they’re face-to-face, he wipes the remains from his chin. “You’re a messy little thing.” Sitting on the couch, he says, “See how neat your sister is? She doesn’t spit up on her favorite cousin.” He looks at me. “It’s weird that you’re cousins with my kids. Maybe we should go with uncle?”
“We don’t make the rules, but I’m cool with whatever.” Mack flaps his arms and blows raspberries when he looks at me. Reaching out for me, I can’t say no to these kids, so I take him into my arms again.
Laird sits on the floor with his daughter. “How’s my Posey Rosie? She’s so good at sitting.”
And there’s that look of pure joy when she sees him. Her eyes widen, her dad the sun in her world, making her shine, and that smile, the laugh. The reward of being a dad. Having someone love you so much that they don’t see your flaws. They only know that you hung the stars for them. That trust. The love.
Mack squeals, not appreciating my attention elsewhere. I squeeze one of my eyes closed until he’s done. “Look, kid. I need my eardrums to play in this band. Don’t go wrecking them.” But yeah, he gets me with that two-teeth grin of his. Every time. He may not look at me like I hung the moon, but I can tell he knows I’ll always have his back. I hug him to me and kiss his head again.
Poppy comes in and says, “It’s nap time.”
“For you or the kids?” Laird teases.
“Probably both. I’m exhausted.”
He stands with Posey in his arms and wraps his arm around his wife. “You go lie down. I’ll put the kids in their cribs and take it from here.” He kisses her forehead, then gives her ass a little smack when she turns around.
Poppy’s an amazing wife, mom, and friend to me. Hearing her giggle like she’s getting away with something is fun to see. But I notice how Laird watches her. They don’t get time alone anymore, so I say, “Hey, if you want to take a break, I’m here. I can hang out for a few hours.”
He seems surprised when he turns back, his forehead doing the heavy lifting. “Really?” he asks, unsure if I’m serious by his tone. Then he sets Posey on the floor where she had been happy to sit—a new skill she’s learned. Mack hasn’t, but we all do things in our own time.
Don’t I know it?
“Really,” I reply.
“Are you sure, Shane?”
“I’m sure. Is it okay if they fall asleep here in the living room?”
“Yeah, it’s fine, but if you want, you can put them in their cribs. They love it in there and usually fall asleep quickly.” He checks his watch. “They’ll both be zonked out in about twenty minutes anyway.”
“Got it,” I say. “Go. I can handle this.”
Rubbing his hand over his head, a familiar Faris tic of mine as well, he grins. “Okay. Great. Knock if you need anything.”
“I won’t need anything.” No fucking way am I disturbing them. I don’t know if they’ll be asleep or taking advantage of the time in other ways. I’m not going to be the one to interrupt either. “No worries.”