Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 95049 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95049 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
I bop the tip of Leo’s nose, and he grins.
I’ve never spent any time with babies until him, and when I offered to help Lorenzo and he shockingly agreed, I was worried that I wouldn’t be able to handle it. I have zero motherly intuition, thanks to my own mother, but I’m finding that hanging out with Leo isn’t a hardship. He’s happy and easygoing—unlike his grumpy father. He loves to eat and play, and he actually likes me and enjoys my company—also unlike his father.
“How’s it going?” Lorenzo asks, appearing in the doorway, casually leaning against the doorjamb.
He changed out of his work clothes and into a white T-shirt and basketball shorts. Business Lorenzo is sexy, but there’s just something about seeing him dressed down—like he fell from above to grace us mere mortals with his presence.
“Dada!” Leo yells, splashing the water again and drenching me.
“I think you have a professional swimmer on your hands,” I joke, grabbing the towel and wiping the water from his eyes.
Leo giggles, grasping my arms and holding on, and my heart soars. I have no desire to become a mom anytime soon, but when the time comes, I hope my baby is half as cute and sweet as Leo is.
“C’mon, Monkey,” I say, lifting him out of the tub and wrapping the towel around him. “Let’s get you dressed, fed, and into bed.”
I give him a quick kiss on his cheek, and he reciprocates, slobbering all over my nose and making me crack up laughing.
“How’s your arm feeling?” I ask Lorenzo as I set Leo on the changing table and go about getting him ready for bed.
I spot a bottle of lotion in the corner, and before I get him dressed, I squirt some into my palms and massage his little limbs.
“It hurts,” Lorenzo says. “But the pain meds are helping. I appreciate you helping with Leo the past few days.” He steps over to the changing table and runs his fingers through Leo’s soft curls while I put his diaper and pajamas on.
While he gave in on me helping him, he hasn’t left the house once since then. I think he trusts me enough to watch Leo as long as we’re all under the same roof.
Leo stretches and yawns, and I smile down at him, wondering how a parent could ever walk away from something so precious—or in my case, treat their baby, and later child, like they regret them ever being born.
“It’s the least I can do,” I murmur, lifting Leo into my arms and walking him down the hall to make him a bottle.
Since I’ve been helping out for the past few days, I’ve become acquainted with their routine and how to make a bottle properly. At first, I was afraid I’d mess it up, but I’ve learned that, at least with Leo, as long as you give him positive attention and feed him on time, he’s easygoing.
I set Leo on his blanket while I make his bottle and then pull him into my arms so I can hold him while he eats. I know he’s capable of drinking it on his own, but I enjoy holding him, and he seems to like being held while he drinks his bottle.
Once he’s done, Lorenzo walks with me back to Leo’s room to put him to bed. After we both give him a kiss good night, I give him his pacifier. His eyes roll upward and then close, and within seconds, he’s out cold.
Without saying another word, Lorenzo disappears into his office, like he does every night, and I head into the kitchen to get something to eat. The man doesn’t exactly keep his house stocked with food, so after staring into the fridge for several minutes, I make myself some cottage cheese and fruit.
I grab my laptop from my room and figure out what books I need to order for my classes, and once that’s done—and the little bit of money I had in my account has been drained—I find my deck of playing cards I keep on hand and shuffle them. Because I’m usually working at the pub, going to class or doing homework, interning for Kora, or sewing, I rarely have this much time on my hands.
I consider playing solitaire but instead go with blackjack. Technically, there should be a dealer, but since I’m not in a casino, it doesn’t really matter.
I’m numerous hands in when Lorenzo appears.
“I ordered in dinner,” he says, strolling into the kitchen. “It’s just pizza but …”
“I’m starved. Thanks.” My words are followed by an embarrassingly loud grumble from my stomach.
“My housekeeper orders the food. She hasn’t been by since I was out of town, and she was visiting her family, but she usually comes in three days a week to clean, do laundry, stock the fridge, and make meals for the week. So, if you write down what you want, she can place an order for you.”