Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 59738 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 299(@200wpm)___ 239(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59738 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 299(@200wpm)___ 239(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
“You’ll need to ask him,” I say. “It’s up to him.”
Conor gives me a goofy smile. “Aye, I can do that.”
I lean over and kiss him again, and he nips his way down my neck, breathing in my ear. “I think the lads are ready to meet my wife. What do ye say?”
I close my eyes and breathe him in. “I’d say it’s about time.”
“What in the bleeding hell is wrong with your woman?” Dom asks.
I glance across the room at Ivy, who’s perched against the table nibbling on a saltine cracker. “I’ve got no clue. She’s been a little on the cranky side. Last night she started crying over a cartoon.”
Crow smirks like he knows something I don’t before he leans back and takes a drink from his glass. “Welcome to the club. Ye best get used to it.”
Dom laughs and my eyes drift back to my wife. Even though she hasn’t exactly been her usual self, I have nothing but warmth for her when I catch her mingling with the other wives like it’s second nature. She’s in my world now, and I never have to question that she wants to be anywhere else because even when we nitpick or nag about stupid shite, at the end of the day, we always come back to each other.
Every night, before her eyes fall shut and her breathing evens out and I ask myself again how I came to have everything I never knew I wanted, she tells me that she loves me. And I know she means it. When I have a rough day, I don’t have to say anything to her. She just knows. She’s there for me when I open the door, and she does everything in her power to make it all okay. For me, and Archer, and anyone else she cares about. The woman might weigh a hundred pounds soaking wet, but she’s got a heart of pure gold.
“She can be cranky,” I tell the lads. “I don’t care. She’s still mine.”
Dom shakes his head like he’s disgusted, but I know he gets it. They all get it. Because we might be Kings on the streets, but we would be nothing without our Queens at home.
“Dad!” Archer squeals as he bounds through the parlor with red cheeks. He’s out of breath, and half his mouth is still painted in chocolate from the cake, and I’ve never been so proud as I am when I hear those three letters from his lips.
“What’s up, little fella?” I grunt when he leaps onto my lap.
“Mama said to ask you if I can open presents now!”
“Aye.” I tap him on the nose with a smile. “That sounds about right.”
He disappears just as soon as he arrived to tackle the mountain of presents that’s accumulated in the middle of the parlor. One thing about birthday parties in this family is that there is no such thing as telling the lads they can’t spoil your kids. It’s going to happen no matter what, so you might as well just accept it.
Ivy comes to stand beside me while Crow takes the lead and distributes each present, announcing who it’s from and letting Archer tear into it. Over the next twenty minutes, we watch him unwrap a battery powered BMW, a hand-controlled drone, Wheelies, a Nerf Go Kart, and enough Legos to ensure I’ll never walk across the floor without cursing again. Ivy’s eyes widen with each gift that’s unwrapped, but when it comes to the tiny motorcycle, I can’t help laughing at the panic on her face.
“We’ll save that one for a little later,” I whisper to her. She gives me an exhausted smile before I pull her into my lap and kiss the side of her temple.
The party goes on well into the evening, and by the time the last of our guests leaves, my wife can barely keep her eyes open. Archer already passed out from the excitement of the day when I carry her back to our bedroom and lay her down.
“You okay?” I brush the hair away from her face.
“Yes,” she answers. “Are the parties always that intense?”
“Aye.” I smirk. “Family is important. It means a lot to the lads to give the kids a smile when they can.”
“It’s the best birthday he’s ever had,” she mumbles sleepily. “Thank you.”
I lean down and kiss her, and then I try to get up with the intentions of cleaning up the kitchen. I don’t want it to fall on Ivy’s shoulders when I have to go back to work in the morning and she’s not feeling well.
“Conor.” She grabs my arm and rolls onto her side, propping herself up with her elbow. “We’ll have another birthday to celebrate soon.”
I think she might be delirious, but I count off the months in my head to both of our birthdays, which are still a good six months away. “Whose?”