Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 90337 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 452(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90337 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 452(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
“I mean, therapy is good,” she continues. “Or so I hear.”
“Therapy is very good,” I agree. “We can find someone to come to the house. Two times a week, or three if that feels better.”
Her smile inches wider. “Two sounds good to start. We don’t want to go too hard.”
“I do,” I say. “I want to do whatever it takes, Elaina. I mean that. Whatever it takes to prove to you that I can be the kind of man you deserve. It’s all on the table. All my time and my money and every piece of my heart because you and our girls deserve nothing less.”
She bites her bottom lip, tears rising in her eyes again as she whispers, “Our girls… You don’t know how many times I’ve dreamed of hearing you say that. Saying it just like that. Like you want to love them. That’s all I want, Hunter. Fuck the money.” She makes a visible effort to regain control before she adds, “And fuck us, honestly, if it comes to that. I would be lying if I said I haven’t been dreaming of you saying all those romantic things to me, and secretly hoping that we might find a way back to each other, but…” Her hands return to her belly, her palms resting lovingly on top. “But these two come first. Even if we can’t make it work, as long as you’re doing your best to be a loving force in their lives, I will be so happy. And so proud of you.”
Holding her gaze, I reach out, resting my palm below hers. “I promise. No matter what happens, I will do everything in my power to be a good father to them. And a good co-parent to you.”
Her lips tremble into a smile. “I can tell you mean it.”
I nod, tears stinging into my eyes. “I do. More than I’ve ever meant anything. But…I’m also a selfish son of a bitch.”
She arches a brow. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” I murmur. “I want you back. For keeps. I want—” I break off with a sharp inhalation as something hard shoves into my palm. “Was that…”
She grins. “Baby A? Yeah. She’s feisty as hell.”
I smile, awe blooming in my chest as the hard nub presses forward again, changing the shape of Elaina’s stomach. “Is she kicking?”
“Stretching, I think,” she says, her fingers tracing the nub through the tight cotton shirt she wears under her cardigan. “But I’m pretty sure that’s her foot. And Baby B’s head is down here.” She guides my hand to her lower right side, where I can actually feel the softly rounded shape of our daughter’s skull.
“Is she safe?” I ask, my heart beating faster. “Shouldn’t there be more fluid to protect her in there?”
“She’s fine.” Elaina exhales a soft laugh. “They’re just running out of room. The doctor wants me to try to make it to the end of next week before we induce, but I don’t know if the girls are going to go for that. They’re already squeezed in tight.” She winces as Baby A stretches again, then swings her legs over the side of the chaise. “And that was a kick to my bladder. Sorry, I have to go. I pee every fifteen minutes these days. It’s my number one hobby.”
I stand and reach down to help her up. “Don’t apologize. Just tell me what I can do. Do you need help to the bathroom?”
She looks up at me as she takes my hand, clearly amused. “No, I’m good. I can still use the toilet by myself.” She rises with a grunt. “But if you wanted to order pizza, I wouldn’t complain. I started thinking about pizza when I was planning to hide from you in the pizza parlor, and it summoned a craving for pepperoni with extra black olives.”
“Done,” I say, releasing her hand. I watch her amble slowly across the room for a beat before calling after her, “And Elaina?”
She turns back to me.
“I’m glad you didn’t hide from me,” I say.
A hopeful smile curves her lips. “Me, too. I think—” She breaks off, frowning for a moment before her eyes fly wide. “Shit. Oh God, shit!” I have no idea what’s happening until she glances down. I follow her gaze, watching as a dark stain spreads quickly across the crotch of her brown leggings.
I’m about to assure her that it’s no big deal—she’ll have to do a lot worse than pee herself to scare me off—when she lifts saucer-round eyes to mine and bleats, “My water broke. That was my water breaking, Hunter. Shit!”
Blinking faster, I try to remain calm as I ask, “Okay, so that means we should—”
“That means we’re having some babies,” she says, fear and excitement mixing in her expression. “And that we should head to the hospital. Now.”