Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 116231 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 581(@200wpm)___ 465(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116231 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 581(@200wpm)___ 465(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
“Got it,” I tell her and then she hands me what was in her hand. “What is this?” I ask of the white folded paper.
I open it and I gasp. “I made you a birthday card,” she tells me. “That’s me,” she points to the stick figure, “and that’s you.” She points to the taller stick figure next to her. The sun is in the sky as my stick figure holds a string with different colored balloons. Happy Birthday, Kylie is written on the top.
“You made this?” I try not to have my voice tremble, but I fail. “This is the best thing I’ve ever gotten for my birthday.” I put the paper to my chest. “I’m one very lucky girl today.”
“We made you one also,” Westley interjects, handing me his but it’s just a Happy Birthday, Kylie written with have a nice day. I smile at him, then Vincent hands me his, which is much the same as Westley’s, and I think they probably did it to be nice to me.
“This,” I look at them, “is the best birthday ever.”
“Yeah,” Nora says, “now let’s eat cake” She gets on her chair on her knees as Knox cuts a piece of cake for each of us. I smile at him as I eat my slice, and then I’m told to sit on the couch and wait for him.
Obviously, I clean up the kitchen as he puts the kids to bed. When he comes back downstairs, I’m sitting on the couch looking at the balloons. “I see you listened to me.”
He comes over to me and I just smile up at him as he sits on the table in front of me, a brown box in his hand. “One last birthday surprise,” he says and I look at the box in front of him.
“After everything that you did,” I lift my hands to the balloons, “you didn’t have to do this.”
“I know.” He smiles, and I lean in and kiss his lips. “But I wanted to.” He thrusts the box in my hand. “Open it.”
I grab the brown square box with a brown satin bow. I pull the sash off the box and then open it and gasp. Sitting in the middle of the box, on top of a brown satin cover, is a gold necklace with a diamond in the middle. Dangling off the diamond on a little piece of necklace is the letter K, also in diamonds. “This is…” I can’t help the tears that roll down my cheeks as I look up at him. “I stopped celebrating my birthday when I turned fourteen and was told that it was just another day and we should celebrate each day, even though we did not celebrate each day.” I breathe out of my mouth, trying not to sob. “From that day on, I celebrated my birthday alone. I used to have dinner by myself.” My finger touches the K. “This is why I was scared to fall in love with you,” I admit to him. “All of this. It’s too much.”
“Baby,” he says softly.
“I usually just pretended it was another day,” I tell him.
“It’s not, it will always be a special day.” He grabs my face in his hands and kisses my lips. “I promise you that every single birthday from here on out will be special.”
I don’t answer him because the lump in my throat is as big as a golf ball. “Happy Birthday, baby,” he whispers and I look into his blue eyes.
“I love you, Knox,” I tell him when I know it won’t come out in a sob. And I do I love him with every single fiber of my being. I love him with every breath that I take. I love him and I know he’ll be the only one for me. I would do anything for him. Only for him. “Will you help me put this on?” I ask, picking up the necklace.
“Yeah.” He takes it out and I hold up my hair and turn around so he can attach it. He kisses the back of my neck as my hand comes up and I touch it. “So the K,” I look over my shoulder as I let my hair go, “is it for Kylie or Knox?”
He smirks as he pushes me onto my back on the couch. I laugh. “It’s for Knox because you’re fucking mine, Kylie.”
thirty-seven
Knox
The whistle blows and I start to skate back to the bench, trying really fucking hard to catch my breath. It’s the first time in a week that I’m on the ice, practicing with the team. I unsnap my helmet as I walk through the tunnel, handing my stick to the equipment guy as I walk into the locker room. I take off the special jersey I had to wear for practice, which was a no-contact jersey. Even though I have been cleared to start practicing, they want to give me another week before they clear me for physical contact. If you ask me, I’m ready to go, but the doctors just want to be cautious. “Coach has an announcement to make,” one of the assistant coaches, Zane says, sticking his head in. “He’ll be here in ten, no one leave.”