Total pages in book: 162
Estimated words: 154728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 774(@200wpm)___ 619(@250wpm)___ 516(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 154728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 774(@200wpm)___ 619(@250wpm)___ 516(@300wpm)
“She was tired. I fed her, burped her, put her in her swaddle suit thing and read her a story. Told her it was time to sleep, put her down then left the room.”
“Did she scream?” I asked, unable to hide my shock from my tone.
Calliope arched a well-manicured brow. “Not a peep. Babies don’t try that shit with me.”
I gaped at her. If she were anyone else and I wasn’t presented with the evidence of a quiet house and presumably sleeping baby, I would’ve called bullshit. Babies bowed to no master, except, it seemed, Calliope Derrick.
“Thank you,” was all I was able to say.
“I’m not gonna say ‘anytime’ because I’m not that good of a person, but we’ll make it a habit. And truly, anytime.” She gave me a wink then sauntered out the door, bottle of wine in hand.
Both Kane and I stood there, listening to the muted hum of her Porsche leave the driveaway.
And as if she sensed her leaving, Mabel’s low cry sounded.
Both Kane and I looked at each other then laughed.
“I got her, babe,” he said, kissing my head. “Go get ready for bed.”
“She may be hungry,” I reminded him, feeling my breasts for their fullness.
Kane waved to the kitchen. “Pump is sterilized and ready to go. You pump a bottle, then go get ready for bed. I got our girl.”
“You need sleep too,” I sighed.
“I needed your pussy, the sound of you and the feel of you coming. I can survive off that for at least another twenty-four hours.” He kissed me hard on the mouth.
“Pump,” he ordered. “Skincare, teeth, sleep.”
I did as he asked. And Mabel was up in another handful of hours. But I managed it, feeling refreshed, feeling less alone in Jupiter.
I had a family with Kane and Mabel.
And I had a village thanks to everyone else.
There were hard days, days when nothing more than coffee and Kane got me through. Even in the midst of those hard days, there was beauty. Mabel’s newfound voice, shrieking with glee as her cries of distress lessened. I was slowly getting less tense during her periods of contentment, no longer bracing and ready for a meltdown. I was … enjoying her. Enjoying motherhood.
Moreover, I was enjoying Kane as a father.
Though enjoy was an insufficient word for it.
He was endlessly patient with her, laying with her on a sheepskin rug most of the day, playing, reading, kissing her. He was besotted.
And he was an animal when it came to protecting her.
Especially since her existence and his location had officially become public record.
We’d known it was a matter of time, so Kane had begun making preparations for a media circus long ago. Our property—both our names now on the deed—had fencing all around it. Kane had bought the additional acreage on either side, both conveniently empty lots. The front of the driveway had a gate that required either a code or a clicker similar to one for a garage. That was the most recent addition, and all of the Jupiter crew were given the code since there was always someone popping in.
We couldn’t fence the beach since it was technically public property. But someone would have to walk for miles in order to make it to our property from the beach access. There were security cameras everywhere, motion sensors.
And then there was the dirt bike track that Kane was building on one of our new properties. He had said countless times that he was happy to be retired from competing and though he seemed sincere, I was still overcome with doubt.
“You don’t go from a life of excitement and constant movement to this,” I argued, gesturing to him on the ground with Mabel.
“If you’re really fuckin’ lucky, you do,” he countered.
I had been silenced then, overcome with emotion that I still didn’t feel equipped to deal with.
He said he was building the track in order to ‘fuck around,’ and apparently, get Mabel ready for her debut on two wheels. Though my anxiety about her general wellbeing was crippling, the image of her on a dirt bike racing through the woods didn’t spike fear inside of me. It made me smile, thinking of the mischievous and adventurous traits it was already apparent she’d inherited from her father. And I knew he’d be right there beside her.
The media was another story.
We weren’t even aware the picture had been taken, a rarity for Kane. Whenever we were out in public—which was more often now that Mabel had adjusted to being in the world and had calmed somewhat—he was on guard, watching strangers with hyperawareness, aware of who had a phone even pointed in our direction, anyone who looked at Mabel too long.
And plenty of people looked at Mabel.
She was, objectively, the most beautiful baby to exist.
She had her father’s dark hair, a full head of it since birth. Though it was inky black on the day she was born, it had lightened up over the past few months, strawberry blonde in the sunlight. There was enough of it now to tie into pigtails. Which Kane did. Every day, he sat with her and brushed her long hair, carefully and precisely tying two bows on either side of her head, redoing them until they were perfect.