Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 99017 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99017 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
“Okay,” Ava says, propping one foot on top of the other as she leans against the doorframe, tugging on her ear the way she used to do when she was feeling stressed out as a toddler. Usually, because Bella was wailing her head off for hours on end.
Having a baby with colic and an eighteen-month-old with a sensitive soul wasn’t easy on any of us. There were times when Ava would catch sympathy tears, Frederica would lose it, too, and I’d have to fight like hell not to join the sob fest. Two babies that close together were never the plan, but condoms break, and apparently, breastfeeding one baby doesn’t provide as much protection from getting pregnant again as Frederica assumed.
But no matter how hard things were for a while there, we never regretted keeping Bella. The girls have grown up like twins, so close and bonded that they often seem to know what the other is thinking without either of them saying a word.
Like now, when Bella says in a soothing voice, “It’s okay, Ava. Don’t be sad.”
Frowning, I glance between them. “Are you sad, Ava?” I ask, chest aching as she fixes her gaze on the floor before giving a small nod. “I’m sorry, honey. Can I come give you a hug?”
She nods again, and I cross the kitchen in a flash, scooping her into my arms and hugging her tight. “Why are you sad, sweet girl? What’s wrong? You know I can care about lots of people at the same time, right? Just because I really like Clover doesn’t mean I love you any less. I always love you and Bella so much that words aren’t big enough to say how big.”
She pulls back, her little face so serious it breaks my heart even before she says, “It’s not that, Daddy. I just… I don’t want to forget Mommy.”
My throat instantly caves in on itself, every muscle and tendon pulling so tight, my words emerge as a rasp as I assure her, “You won’t ever forget, Mommy, honey. And neither will I.”
“But if we all get so happy together, we might forget,” Ava says, her eyes shining. “Sometimes, I forget already, Daddy. I forget, and I feel bad and sad and think Mommy would be disappointed in me.”
“Oh, baby, no. Mommy is not disappointed in you. Not even a little. She loved you so much and only wants you to be happy,” I rush to assure her. “And you’re never bad, sweetheart, not even when you make mistakes. You’re such a good, smart, sweet kid and an amazing daughter and big sister and person, and I love you so much.”
“Your daddy’s right, Ava,” Clover says, appearing beside us. “You’re one of the best people I know. And I would never try to take your mommy’s place, okay? The relationship I have with you and with your daddy is something different. It’s special in a way that will never make the bond you had with your mom less special. Not ever. I promise.”
Ava nods, the tension easing from her features, though she still looks shier than usual as she asks, “Pinkie swear?”
Clover extends a curled pinkie finger. “Pinkie swear.”
Ava hooks her finger through Clover’s, and Clover leans in, kissing Ava’s forehead. “Pinkie swear, and a kiss for luck. Now, how about a salad for you with no broccoli? Because I know you’re not as much of a fan as Bella.”
Ava nods, happily squirming free of my arms as Clover heads for the counter. “Yes, please. No broccoli and no cucumber. I don’t feel like cucumber tonight.”
Bella snorts. “You’re silly. Cucumber is always good, and broccoli is the best.”
“No, it’s not,” Ava insists. “Broccoli makes me have sharp toots.”
I snort as I turn around, amazed all over again at how fast the girls can have me careering from the verge of tears to laughter. “Sharp toots?”
“Toots that poke too hard,” Ava says matter-of-factly. At my apparently confused expression, she arches her brows and adds, “Oh, come on, Daddy. We all know a sharp toot when we feel it.”
That gets us all laughing, Bella and me and Clover, who already has salads plated for the girls and delivers them to the table before asking, “Should we have dinner music?”
“Yes, jazz!” Bella shouts.
“French jazz,” Ava adds, “not smooth dinner jazz because that makes me sleepy.”
“Agreed. It should be called ‘smooth you off to sleep’ jazz,” Clover says, heading over to plug her phone into the speaker on the counter.
A few minutes later, we’re all gathered around the table, laughing as Bella keeps trying to touch her too-hot pizza, and making silly faces when her fingers touch the molten cheese. Then, it’s time for the girls’ bath and teeth brushing time. Clover takes point, while I pack for the road trip, and we all meet up on the couch thirty minutes later in our PJs to watch The Little Mermaid.