Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 71768 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71768 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
“A real prize?”
“Awesome prize, huge prize, prize of your life.” I was already pulling her next to me and tucking her into the bed. After a few seconds, I realized that the diaper was no longer on her, duh. “Wait here, I need to grab a pull-up, OK?”
“’K.” Her eyes blinked heavily up at me. Yeah, she was dropping like a fly.
By the time I grabbed a pull-up from her bathroom and was back in my room, she was already sound asleep.
I carefully drew the covers back and got the pull-up over her tiny body, then crawled under the blankets and held her against my chest.
For a few brief moments, all I thought was, This is perfect.
“Slept in?” Rip said an hour later when I came downstairs with Viera in my arms. I’d at least gotten her dressed in a pink jumpsuit, while I still wore the black Nike joggers and ratty Yankees T-shirt that I’d worn to bed.
I didn’t answer, just held out a coffee cup and grunted.
He shook his head and poured me a coffee, then took Viera from my arms, gave her a little twirl, and sat her in her chair.
My ovaries did a little jump at how good he was with children. I mean, he could be Satan to me any day, but the way he loved those kids, it almost made me forget how horrible he was.
Almost.
“Actually…” I took a sip of black coffee and felt the tension dissipate from my body. “Viera woke me up at six a.m. to show me her diaper.”
Rip’s eyebrows shot up. “And?”
“Oh, it was wet,” I said into my cup. “My cheek can attest to that fact.”
He snorted out a laugh and then gave Viera a high five. “It’s all right, pretty girl, we’ll work on it.”
She gave him a toothy grin and kissed him on the cheek.
I watched the exchange with rapt fascination as he tucked a curl behind her ear and then nuzzled her nose with his.
He hadn’t shaved yet this morning, which made him seem ruffled and a bit out of sorts despite the fact that he was wearing a long-sleeved black Henley and skinny jeans tucked into black shiny boots that probably cost more than my car.
He was even put together on his off days.
I cringed when I looked down.
Oh well, take me as I am or don’t take me at all.
Ben looked up from his iPad. His five-year-old face was covered in hazelnut spread. “You didn’t do your hair.”
“Thank you,” I said through clenched teeth, “for pointing that out.”
“She never does her hair,” Viera announced proudly.
I squeezed my eyes shut. “Kids.”
“She’s not wrong…,” Rip just had to mutter.
I shot him a glare while he started piling up pancakes on Viera’s plate and cutting them into such perfect squares I wondered if he was measuring them with his knife each time he made a slice.
“Gonna cut up my pancakes too, Rip?”
“No,” he said without looking up. “I figured you’d just tear into them with your teeth, you know, like the animal you are.”
“It’s too early for you.” I grabbed a pancake and shoved half of it into my mouth and was about to jab another with my fork when my cell started buzzing in my pants pocket.
I ignored it, and the call went to voice mail.
Then it buzzed again.
With a sigh, I swallowed my last bite and pulled out the phone. The number on the screen didn’t look familiar, but something told me to answer it anyway. Heaven forbid we forget about the PTA meeting this week or the fact that I had to somehow make cupcakes for Ben’s class in the near future.
Gluten-free. Nut-free. Dairy-free. Can’t wait. Can’t freaking wait.
And when I say “make,” I mean “purchase from Whole Foods.”
I tapped the phone. “Hello?”
“Is this Colby Summers?”
My stomach dropped to my knees at the solemn tone of the woman’s voice, and I looked up at Rip. “This is she.”
“Hi, Colby, my name’s Kelly Smith. I’m the charge nurse at Mercy Grace. There’s been an accident.”
“Accident,” I repeated, and then quickly ran into the living room as my world tilted sideways. “Is everyone OK? Who’s this concerning?”
The line was quiet, and then, “We really need you to come down here and sign a few things.”
Signing didn’t sound bad.
“You mean fill out insurance forms?”
“I’m so sorry, Colby, I am, and I wish I was there to tell you in person, but you’re the emergency contact for Monica Jones.”
Rip walked into the room, his face lined with concern.
Somehow I managed to keep standing as I whispered, “Yes, I’m the emergency contact for Monica. Can you please tell me—” My voice cracked. “What is this about?”
“I’m so sorry to be the one to tell you this—there was an accident, the rain made it slippery this morning, an elderly gentleman sideswiped a car, forcing it into another lane. It collided with a semi.”