Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 125866 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 629(@200wpm)___ 503(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125866 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 629(@200wpm)___ 503(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)
She giggled as I rolled down like a kid going down a hill, and I landed perfectly on my elbow, facing her, and waggled my brows as I offered her the piece of pineapple right at the edge of her pretty pink lips.
She shook her head and slid her sunglasses up so I could see her roll her eyes, but then she opened like a good girl, eating the pineapple and wiping the juice from the corner of her mouth.
Instantly, she moaned.
“Good?” I teased.
“Why is fruit so amazing when you’re pregnant?” She shook her head, motioning to the tray for another bite. I rolled enough to grab a strawberry and a couple slices of kiwi for her, and thoroughly enjoyed feeding her each one and hearing the resulting groans of ecstasy.
“Why is fruit so sexy when a pregnant woman is eating it?” I countered.
She swatted me with a grin, sliding her glasses back down and resting against the hammock. “It’s such a beautiful day.”
“I checked my weather app. It’s fifty-one and raining in Seattle.”
“Suckers.”
I smirked, pulling her onto my chest despite her protests that she was gross and sweaty. As if I cared.
“I have a question,” I said after a moment.
“Shocking.”
I tickled her ribs until she was thrashing, and only once she settled into my arms again did I continue.
“What do you want from life in the next five, ten, twenty years?”
“Wow,” she said, sitting up on her elbow to face me. She struggled a bit with the movement in the hammock and her giant belly. I reached out to rub a palm over said belly as she got comfortable. “We’re getting heavy today.”
“I mean it. Everything between us happened at lightning fucking speed. We skipped over all the shit we would have gone through if we’d dated in the traditional sense, if we’d spent a year or two going to restaurants and movies and on trips before we moved in together and got married.”
She frowned. “Does it make you sad that we missed all that?”
“Not even a little bit,” I said instantly. “I fucking love this, our story, the shit we’ve been through.” I tugged at the string of her bikini bottom, not untying it, but plucking it away from her skin playfully. “I wouldn’t change a thing. I love you. I love us.”
“Cornball.”
“You love it.”
She smiled, no denial.
“I know a lot about your past because I was there. We’ve caught up on what happened since then — what you’ve been through, what I’ve been through. I know there will be moments when we’re just hanging out and a little story will come up and you’ll tell me about a drunk night out with your friends, or a funny story when Sebastian was little. And I’ll tell you about a wild night out with the team, or the time I almost got expelled because I tried to sleep with my professor to get a better grade.”
Her eyebrows shot into her hairline at that. “Excuse me?”
I waved her off. “Not important.”
“You are such a menace,” she said on a laugh, shoving me away playfully.
But she pulled me right back into her, as if to say silently to that professor he’s mine now, bitch.
“I want to know what you want from here on out,” I repeated, bringing us back to the question at hand. “Tell me your dreams, Madelyn.”
She sighed, watching where her finger was drawing circles on my chest. “Well, first and foremost, I want to deliver a healthy baby girl.”
I smiled, running my palm over her stomach. “Our little Raven.”
“We are not naming our daughter after your favorite childhood football team.”
“Come on!” I protested. “Raven is adorable. No one will know but us.”
“And everyone you brag to.”
“Fine,” I conceded, rubbing her belly again. “Our little Raylyn.”
Madelyn flattened her lips. “Because Ray Lewis?”
“No one would know.”
Apparently done with my antics, Madelyn ignored that suggestion altogether and continued answering my question. “After our healthy baby girl — who will not be named either of those things — is born, then… I’m not sure.” She shrugged. “I mean, I would love to be home with her and Sebastian for at least a year or two, I think.”
“You would?”
She nodded, her cheeks tingeing pink. “Is that old fashioned?”
“Not at all.” I held up a pointed finger. “Feminism celebrates the woman’s choice. If this is what you want, then fuck yeah, let’s do it. But I also want you to know that if it’s not what you want, we can hire help. I can help — especially in the offseason. We can figure it out.”
“Oh, you’re definitely helping. Better get diaper duty lessons from Clay.”
“Psh, lessons?” I sucked my teeth. “He’ll need lessons from me. I’ll be Diaper Dad and Bath Time Dad and Swaddling Dad, too.”
Madelyn smiled. “I have no doubts. What about you? What do you see in the future?”