Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 85443 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85443 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
And I had never been more fucking sure of anything in my life.
Had the ring been close by, I'd have done it right fucking then and there.
But it would have to wait until after dinner, after dessert, after her father and Ella left.
Then I would ask her.
Prue- 1.5 years
"You can't be serious," I said, shaking my head at my father who had just informed me that he and Ella were going to have a Vegas wedding.
"We thought it would be funny," he said with a wicked smile.
He was still in recovery from his gambling addiction. Over a year and a half and no slip-ups.
But, regardless of that, he was still my father and, as such, could be a tad bit ridiculous at times. I had been counting on Ella being the practical one between them.
"Ella thought it would be fun to step out of her comfort zone a little. She even suggested we get an Elvis impersonator to marry us. Or maybe a Dolly Parton one. Hell, we can do both!"
At that, I felt my smile spread, genuinely, truly happy for the both of them. My father, because he had such a big heart and had never found a woman to share it with after my mother. At least not for any length of time. And Ella because it seemed that my father, in a way, had done for her what Byron had done for me. He had allowed her the freedom to be more herself, to do things she wasn't sure she could do, to be a more complete version of herself.
I looked down to where my father's hand had rested on mine when he told me the news, seeing Byron's ring flashing there. He'd asked me almost ten months before and we were nowhere close to even getting the wedding invitations out. One, because I cringed at the idea of being the center of attention on the 'big day'. Two, because Byron was in no rush, declaring 'whenever the fuck we get around to it, we get around to it' like we were discussing getting the gutters cleaned. But again, it was another thing I appreciated about him. He genuinely didn't care about peoples' expectations. It didn't bother him in the least when someone ribbed him about 'making an honest woman' out of me.
The oven dinged, making me jump up and reach for the mitts to pull the donuts out of the oven. Cinnamon sugar donuts for the fourth birthday of one of Byron's business associates. I got enough calls to warrant my maybe considering opening up a shop somewhere, but I couldn't quite find the motivation to do so. I generally took maybe two or three jobs a week on a busy week, enjoying the down time.
It was especially good considering that in about eight months, I wouldn't really have too much spare time to bake cookies and homemade Pop-tarts for other people.
"Did you tell him yet?" my father asked as I stood next to the oven, staring down at the donuts, my hand subconsciously having moved to my belly.
"No," I said, shaking my head.
"What are you waiting for?" he asked, standing up and crossing toward me. "Dear Prudence," he said, framing my face, "the day your mother told me you were going to come into the world was the best day of my life. Until, of course, you actually did come into the world. That day was infinitely better," he said, giving me a wink. "Why would you hesitate in telling him? In giving him that kind of happy?"
"I just... I don't know. We haven't really discussed children much. This was an oopsie. When I was sick last month? I must have missed one of my Pills."
"Baby," he said, his tone suggesting I was being silly, "the way that man loves you... he wants to have a baby with you. Even if he didn't know it before, he will know it the moment you tell him. In fact," he said, swatting me until I moved away from the donuts. "I'll take care of this. You go tell him now."
"Dad, I really need to..."
"Tell your man that he is going to be a daddy? Yes, I totally agree," he said, giving me a smile and a hand wave toward the door.
With that, I moved into the hall, taking a deep breath as I rounded Byron's office. I knocked, but went in without waiting for a reply. He was sitting at his desk, phone to his ear, listening to someone else. I moved around the desk, sitting down on it right in front of his chair.
"Alex, I have to call you back," he said, hitting the end button before Alex could have possibly said anything, and throwing his cell down on the desk. "What's the matter?" he asked, scooting a little closer, grabbing the sides of my knees with his hands.