Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 83612 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83612 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
“It’s that monotone voice you got going there, Grandpa,” Reid teases.
Will chuckles. “You sure we have to keep him?” he asks his daughter.
“Yeah, I’m sure.” Bellamy tilts her head back, and Reid kisses her nose. “He’s kind of grown on me.”
“Fine,” Will says, a playful smile tugging at his lips.
“Thank you for having us, and for helping with Mia today,” I say to Reid and Bellamy. “You, too,” I tell her father, turning my eyes to him.
“She’s a cutie, that one,” Will says, with a kind smile and a nod.
“Well, that cutie needs to get home and get into bed. I’m sure she’ll fall asleep on the way there, and the challenge will be getting her changed and into bed and not waking her up.” I smile down at my daughter, who’s already bundled up in her car seat. “I meant to bring jammies so that part would be done, but I forgot.”
“She’s in leggings and a long-sleeve shirt, just let her sleep in that.” Bellamy shrugs. “Don’t get caught up in needing everything to be perfect, Manda. Life is messy, and she’s safe, warm, fed, and so incredibly loved. It’s not the end of the world if she sleeps in that outfit. It’s soft and comfy.” Bellamy pulls me into a hug. “You’re a great mom. Mia is lucky to have you.”
“Thank you,” I croak, feeling emotions swell in the back of my throat.
“Okay, none of that,” Reid says. “I don’t like it when my wife cries, and as her best friend, I know she won’t let you cry alone,” he says, making us both laugh as we wipe at our eyes.
“I love you both. Thank you again for an incredible day. I can’t believe Coral is two,” I say, bending to grab the diaper bag. Before I can grab the car seat, Will picks it up for me.
“I’m leaving, too,” he explains. “Let me help you ladies out to the car.” With his free hand, he hugs his daughter, shakes Reid’s hand, and follows me out the door.
I rush toward the back passenger door of my SUV and open it. “I can take her,” I say, reaching for the car seat and my daughter.
“I got it. It’s not been that long since Coral was in one of these. I still remember how. Just relax, Momma.” He smiles, and my shoulders fall.
Something as simple as my best friend’s dad putting my daughter in her seat, in my car, does that. That’s what my life has become—a constant ball of nerves, being mom and dad to this precious daughter of mine. I know Bellamy tells me all the time to give myself some grace, but it’s this moment when it hits me—I’m wound tight. “Thank you, Mr. Warner.”
“It’s Will, sweetheart.” He makes sure Mia is secure before stepping back. “Check out my work, Momma. We want this little angel to be safe.” He winks, and my heart does this weird flutter thing inside my chest.
He understands that my need to keep her safe is my driving force. He knew that. Even though I trust him, I would have to check to make sure Mia was latched properly. He understands and is accepting that. His kindness has my eyes growing misty.
“Thank you,” I whisper before moving around him. I dip my head inside and check the car seat. It’s securely fastened, just as I knew it would be, but I’m so used to it just being me—
No, that’s not all it is.
I’ve told myself that I’m all that Mia has. I need to be a mother, a father, and a protector. My parents live in Hawaii, living out their retirement dreams. They don’t understand why I adopted during my divorce.
I tried so many times to explain to them that Ethan and I were already in the process of doing it together. They don’t approve of me going ahead on my own. “You need a man,” they said. A husband who can provide for me. They’re old-school, and we’ve never been close. Hence, the reason my daughter is eight and a half months old, and they’ve never met her. Hell, they don’t even call to check on her. So, yes, I’m a helicopter mom, and I hope like hell I can figure out a way not to be as my baby girl gets older. I don’t want her to hate me. But really, can she hate me for loving her too much? Is that a thing?
“Thank you,” I say, standing and closing the back door. “I know I can trust you. It’s just—” I start to defend my actions, but he reaches out and places his hand over mine.
“Amanda, it’s okay,” he says, his tone gentle. “You’re her mother. You’re just doing your job.”
I nod, because today has been a lot—seeing everyone happy and in love. I want that. For Mia and for me. But that just isn’t in the cards for us. At least, not yet. I think about my conversation with Candice and hope that one day we’ll find a good man to love us both.