Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 94092 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94092 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
I can feel my heart melting as I crouch down to accept his magnanimous offer. “Thank you, little angel.” I take the smallest bite I possibly can. The bun is soft, the ketchup sweet, and the mustard tangy on my tongue. I chew, savoring the moment, and suddenly want one for myself as well.
"This is really good," I say.
"Daddy, do you want a taste too?"
"That’s very generous of you. Thank you, buddy?"
Max lowers himself and takes a bite. I don’t miss the fact that his lips are grazing the same spot mine did. Our eyes meet then, but I immediately look away before things get out of hand. Jason, oblivious to our secret, turns away and begins to wolf down his hot dog.
We are drawn to watch a street performer juggling flaming torches.
Max stands, offering his hand, and I take it. His fingers lace with mine, warm, firm, and it is a secret touch hidden in the crowd. His thumb brushes my knuckles, slow and sweet, and my throat tightens, tears pricking my eyes. Everything is so perfect—his hand in mine, Jason’s laughter, the life we’re pretending to live.
At this point, I truly don’t know how I will stay even one day longer once Sara returns. I don’t know if I will be able to pretend when she’s here that I’m happy she’s back and that I’m happy that she has the life that was supposed to be mine. My lips tremble, fighting back the frustration, and Max notices.
“Are you okay?” he asks, his voice full of concern.
I nod and work up a smile for him, and we return our attention to the performance. Afterwards we continue walking, but this time around we each have a hold of Jason so he doesn’t get lost in the crowd.
Max, still watching me, asks again. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
I don’t hide the truth. “It’s the same issue,” I tell him. I don’t want any of this to end, but it’s going to, and I can’t help but wonder if I’m just torturing myself by making all these memories to remember and hold on to. I don’t know how I’m going to move on."
He stiffens and goes silent, and I immediately regret exposing my troubled thoughts to him.
“Ignore me,” I work up a smile. “I’m happy regardless. I’m just worried that maybe I’m too happy. If that makes any sense.”
He looks at me, his blue eyes sad, and I see the same ache, the same fear of losing this. “It does make sense,” he replies. “I completely understand how you feel.”
We continue to walk, wandering through the town center, the lights twinkling, the crowd a lively hum of voices and music. Jason tugs at my arm, his eyes begging.
“Do you want a turn at the ring-toss stand?”
I laugh at his transparent attempt at manipulation. “Yes, I think we should all have a go.”
Max hands him a couple of dollars, and we stand watching as he concentrates on his aim. We’re a family, a perfect, fleeting picture I want to freeze forever. The thought of Max’s child growing quietly in my belly surges again. It’s fierce and it’s downright reckless, but I want to be a mom. I want a child who is mine, one I don’t have to give back. I push the thought down, focusing on Jason’s cheer as he wins a small plastic toy.
“I did it, Daddy. I did it!” he chirps. His hand waves the cheap plastic ring like a trophy, and his gray eyes sparkle with the rush of victory.
“Well done, buddy. Well done,” Max praises with pride.
His hand finds mine again, his fingers warm, lacing tightly. His eyes find mine. And it’s just us three, in a bubble of pure joy and love.
We linger at the market, letting Jason try his luck at a balloon-dart game, his focus intense as he aims. It’s too difficult for him to win anything. Max chuckles, low and warm, as he hands over another fistful of dollars to the vendor.
“Have another go, son.”
Finally, Jason gets it, and the pop of a balloon earns him a stuffed bear. He whoops and hugs it tightly.
“You’re spoiling him,” I tease, nudging his side.
He grins, boyish, his blue eyes catching the neon glow, making my pulse skip. “Well, I did promise him that tonight, he can have anything he wants. Besides, it's worth it to see him this happy,” he murmurs, his voice soft, his gaze flicking to Jason, then back to me.
The night feels alive, every moment pulsing with possibility, and I lean into it, letting the joy drown out the dread creeping at the edges. We buy cotton candy, its pink fluff melting sweet on my tongue, and Jason giggles as it sticks to his nose. Max puts his index finger on his son’s nose, his touch gentle, fatherly, a sight that twists my heart with love and longing.