Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 86629 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86629 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
“Don’t tell me you’re working.” Connor fills a glass of bourbon. “Angel, I keep saying you don’t need to do that.”
“I like my job.”
“It’s WashCo.” He tosses back the rest of the glass. “For fuck’s sake.”
“Someone’s got to do your books and it might as well be someone who knows how crooked they are.”
“Not a bad point.”
“Besides, I’d be bored out of my mind if I weren’t working.”
He grunts approval and kisses my neck. “You know, I was thinking. About earlier—“
“No.”
“It’s good timing. We shouldn’t wait—“
“Connor.”
“Baby, please.” He turns me to face him. “We’re ready.”
I look at the floor. He’s ready, that’s for sure, but I keep thinking about what happened last time. The eight-hour delivery. The swollen feet. The weight I could barely drop. I feel like I have my body back at last, and he wants me to do it all over again?
But he’s right. It’s time. It’s past time. I want to fill this big house with laughter and noise, and we can’t do that unless I’m pregnant.
“I’m afraid, that’s all.”
“I know.” He breathes out and kisses my cheek. “I’ll be here always. You know that.”
“You really think we can do it all over again?”
“Well, we might hire another Lisa.”
“Connor!”
“But yes, of course we can.” He kisses my lips. “I love you so much it fucking hurts. I want more of you. I want so much more. And that means a dozen babies rolling all over the place.”
“Can we settle on three?”
“That might be acceptable.”
I chew my thumbnail, check my phone, look at my computer, and groan. “Fine.”
“Fine?”
“Fine!”
“Fine.” He bites my lower lip. “Shall we get started?”
“No!” I push him back weakly. He nibbles at my ear. “Maybe. Ah, stop it!”
He laughs, gripping my ass. I wriggle from his hold as Lisa appears with Addie in tow. I take my daughter in my arms, dismiss the nanny for the night, and force Connor to come for a walk with us.
We’re trailed by three big men in dark suits, but that’s fine. Connor pushes the stroller and I hold onto his arm.
“You never told me, is Rowan definitely going to Blackwoods next year?”
Connor grunts his confirmation. “It’s not official yet, but that’s the plan.”
“Is she nervous?”
“Don’t know. I swear that girl’s turning into a difficult goddamn teenager.”
“I wonder where she gets it from.”
“Easy, angel.”
I look out at the water, smiling to myself. My baby babbles happily and my husband strolls by my side, a hulking and beautiful man, cooled and tempered by fatherhood, but nowhere near dimmed.
It’s good, living like this. I don’t know how I found this piece of myself after all that happened. I was so afraid of turning into my mother that I refused to let myself be myself.
I take care of people. That’s what I do. And now I have a husband and a daughter to dote on.
Why not make more?
“When we get home, I want you to knock me up.”
Connor tenses. “You’re serious?”
“We might as well enjoy the process.”
“Angel, you don’t know how happy that makes me.”
“The prospect of a baby? Or having sex without protection?”
“Both.” He pauses, lips curling. “Mostly the sex.”
“Bastard.” I slap his shoulder and we continue our stroll, and I’m anticipating what’s next, but I’m also content with what we have.