Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 122242 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 611(@200wpm)___ 489(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122242 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 611(@200wpm)___ 489(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
"Angel, anyone who knows you knows why you were chosen to speak," I remind her. Two years ago, her mother stood trial for human trafficking. She was convicted, largely based on Faith's testimony. It was big news at the time and led to Faith meeting the founder of a nonprofit that advocates for the victims of human trafficking. She's spent the last two years of her life fighting tirelessly for women and children without voices. She's an inspiration. That's why she was chosen to speak today. Not because of what happened to her, but because of what she's done with her life since. There are dozens of innocent people out there who are safe now because of her.
"Ilya said he'd come," she whispers.
"Then he'll be there alongside your uncle Jordan and the rest of our friends. You know he loves you. You're like the daughter he never had," I remind her, smiling. They've stayed in touch over the years. He's gruff and crude and doesn't much care for me because of my job, but he cares about my girl, helps look after her like he did by giving her a job at the bar. Like I suspected, he didn't need help when he approached Tarasova about her. He'd seen how they treated her and wanted to give her a safe place…somewhere she could be as free as possible. I'll owe him until the day I die for that.
"Do you want kids?" she blurts out.
"Do I want–?" I blink down at her, caught off guard by the sudden change of topic.
She's watching me with wide, worried eyes, her lip caught between her teeth.
"Yeah, I want babies with you," I whisper, gently removing her lip from between her teeth before she bites it off. "But you already knew that. We've talked about it more than once. What's going on, Faith? Talk to me."
"I think I'm pregnant," she whispers.
I freeze. Even my heart stops beating for a second. I suspected as much, but didn't want to get my hopes up unnecessarily. Joy courses through me in a strong current before I suck in a breath, halting the visceral reaction as I read her expression. "You're not happy about it."
"No." She flinches when my body goes taut beneath her. "I mean no, that's not what's wrong. I want babies with you," she whispers, tears in her eyes. "I want them so much. But…"
"But what?"
"What if I'm not a good mom?" Her stricken eyes meet mine, her distress breaking a little piece of my heart. "What if I don't know how to be a good parent? My mom…Carmen…sold me to Nikolai. What if I end up messing up a kid's life like she messed mine up?"
"No, Faith. Absolutely not." I grasp her shoulders, shaking her gently. I'm so fucking glad that bitch is spending the rest of her life in prison. She'll never step foot outside again, never get near my wife. For the rest of her miserable days, she'll know exactly what it is to have no choice. She deserves death for what she put Faith through—for what my wife still endures because of her. But at least she'll spend the rest of her life in a cage like the one she sold her own daughter into.
"I've seen you with Stella, TJ, and Andrés. You're so patient and so loving with them, conejita. You're not capable of hurting a child and there is nothing about you that's cruel or heartless like Carmen is. You're going to be an amazing mother. It kills me that you could think any differently." I cup her cheek in my hand, forcing her to look at me. "You are not your mother, little bunny. There is nothing evil or hateful in you."
A tear rolls down her cheek, shredding another piece of my heart.
"Where is this coming from?" I ask, brushing it away.
"I want this so much. I didn't even know how much I wanted it until I realized that it might be possible. I guess I'm just afraid something is going to take it away from me. I'm so happy, Octavio. You give me everything. I'm graduating from college. I have a job I love. Everything in my life is exactly like I always dreamed," she whispers. "Having kids with you is the only thing missing."
"You're allowed to be afraid. But I'm right here with you. Everything is going to be okay," I murmur, wiping away another tear that falls down her cheek. I want to tell her that nothing will take this away from her, but I can't promise her that. Pregnancy can be tenuous and fleeting. I pray to God hers isn't because losing a baby would devastate her, but I can't make her a promise I might not be able to keep. Instead, I tell her what I know I can guarantee. "If you are pregnant, you're going to be an incredible mom, and your dreams are going to keep coming true. It's my job to make that happen for you. Seeing you happy is my greatest pleasure in life. Don't you know I'd do anything for you?"