Total pages in book: 41
Estimated words: 37645 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 188(@200wpm)___ 151(@250wpm)___ 125(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 37645 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 188(@200wpm)___ 151(@250wpm)___ 125(@300wpm)
I lean in and press my lips to his, kissing him long and deep, pouring all my feelings into that moment. “I can’t think of anything I want more,” I whisper against his mouth, my heart racing with the thrill of what’s to come.
He grins, relief all over his face. “Good. Because I plan on knocking you up at least four or five more times.”
“We’ll discuss that after we have the first one,” I say, wrapping my arms around him. “But right now, I need some coffee. Then we can head to the courthouse.”
“I don’t think you’re allowed to have coffee when you’re pregnant.” His words cut through my soul.
I punch him in the arm, hard enough to sting. “I can’t believe I have to give up coffee.”
He laughs happily, “Don’t worry, fever. I’ll give it up, too.” And that’s how our new life begins. With laughter, love, and the knowledge that Wyatt will do whatever it takes to make me happy.
EPILOGUE
WYATT
The wood boards radiate heat up through my bare feet as I pace the length of the front porch. The last year and a half have flown by in the blink of an eye as we settled into first married life, then life as new parents. The weight of a baby sleeping on my chest is something that’ll never get old.
I bounce a little on my heels, rocking Audrey in the crook of my left arm, careful not to jostle her pacifier loose. Her sleepy eyes are drifting shut after another busy day keeping us on our toes.
Naomi leans against the porch railing next to me as the sunset throws shadows across the yard. The porch table is covered with scattered papers, sticky notes, and her fancy laptop computer. Her criminal justice assignment is due at midnight, and she’s got at least two cups of coffee left before the panic sets in.
Audrey starts to fuss, small and uncertain, like she’s apologizing in advance for the meltdown that’s coming. I slide a big hand behind her head and bounce her a little more, staring out at the rolling hills of Silver Spoon Falls, where the last of the sun floods the fields with the last rays of color.
“You’d better not let her get used to being held all the time,” Naomi says, not taking her eyes off the laptop. “The second you put her down, you’ll pay the price.”
“I don’t see anyone complaining,” I mutter, rubbing my thumb in slow circles on Audrey’s back. I had no idea it was possible to love something so completely while simultaneously resenting its refusal to nap for longer than twenty minutes at a stretch.
Naomi snorts, but there’s affection in it. She reaches over and places a soft kiss Audrey’s cheek as the baby’s eyelids droop, heavy and defiant. Within seconds, she’s sound asleep. Hopefully for the night.
I adjust the blanket, making sure her arms are tucked in. “You think she’ll ever stop looking like a tiny drunk person when she wakes up?”
Naomi rolls her eyes. “That’s not a nice thing to say about our daughter. Why don’t you put her down and come back to give me a shoulder rub?”
Oh hell yes. I mentally fist bump the air knowing where my shoulder rubs usually lead.
“I’ll be right back,” I say as I rush in the house with my precious bundle in my arms.
I tiptoe into her pink nursery and set her down gently in the baby bed all while holding my breath. I finally exhale once she doesn’t stir one bit. I can’t resist running my knuckles over her downy bright red hair as I step back, instantly missing the weight of my daughter in my arms.
On my way out to the front porch, I stop by the kitchen and pour my wife another cup of coffee.
I step back out and Naomi glances up with an expression that says, you’re a big softy. “I can’t believe you turned out to be the helicopter parent.” She teases.
“Believe it, fever. You and Audrey are my whole world.”
“I love you.” My wife shoves aside the mess of schoolwork and pats the bench next to her. “Sit and relax while you can.”
I do as I’m told, but it takes effort not to check the video on my phone every two seconds to make sure Audrey is okay. I’ve read every parenting book there is, and I’m convinced that at least ninety percent of them are lies written by people who’ve never met a real child.
Naomi slides in close, slinging her legs over my lap and leaning into my side. She smells like vanilla mixed with her own unique fragrance.
“Are you ready for next week?” I ask, already knowing the answer but wanting to hear what she has to say.
She rolls her head back and groans, staring up at the string of Edison bulbs I hung along the eaves last spring. “Two research papers, a presentation, and an interview with my corrections professor. Why did I think this was a good idea?”