Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 89978 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89978 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
“Staying as in doing all of his rituals at home or staying as in …”
Dying. He won’t say the word, and he doesn’t have to.
I shrug. I can’t talk about this. “I’m starving.”
Koen gives me a comforting grin, getting my hint. “Okay, Mommy.” He holds her tight, bending down to kiss my head. “Take your time. Breakfast will be waiting.”
“Damn,” I say just as he reaches the door.
He glances over his shoulder.
I grin. “My husband is hot. I think you should always be shirtless in the house.”
He winks at me. “Careful, you’ll end up pregnant again in no time if you keep saying things like that.”
“Wasn’t that the plan from the beginning?”
With a chuckle, he starts to slide the door shut, then stops. “Are you happy, Scottie?”
I adjust the water temperature. “Happy? Is that a real question?”
“Do you miss working at the shop? You said you never took the time to dream, so you weren’t sure if this was your dream. But now that you’re living whatever this is, are you happy? Content? Because if you’re not—”
“Koen,” I slide down until my shoulders are submerged, “I had this discussion with my mom last week when she called to give me their flight information. It’s sad that we still devalue women and their choices. If a woman works full-time, it means she’s not prioritizing her family. If a woman chooses to stay home and raise a family full-time, it means she’s sacrificing some sort of goals that society thinks she should have. I’m exactly where I want to be, doing exactly what I want to do. And this life we have together has exceeded even my grandest expectations. If someday I desire more than what I’m doing now, you’ll be the first to know. And I don’t know if I’m old enough to declare my ‘life’s purpose,’ but I knew when I held Penelope in my arms for the first time that she is unequivocally my heart’s purpose.”
His smile grows in tiny increments. “Thanks for choosing me.”
After he shuts the door, I close my eyes. I could have argued with him that it wasn’t a choice, that my heart always knew it was him. That would be a lie. It’s okay that love is messy and complicated. If loving too much or too many people is my biggest offense, I’ll die with no regrets.
I’ve thought about the baby I lost more than once since I gave birth to Penelope. During the twelve years Price and I spent apart, I thought about a life with him. And it was always a good one. It took me a while to accept the loss of our baby as nothing more than an unfortunate event. It didn’t have to mean anything more or less than that. It wasn’t a sign.
It was life.
After my luxurious bath, I dry my hair and slip into reindeer lounge pants and a matching tee. And my husband got the memo that I didn’t officially send. He’s wearing his reindeer lounge pants, and he dressed Penelope in her reindeer onesie with matching socks pulled up past her knees.
“I put my mom’s cinnamon rolls in the oven five minutes ago,” Koen says, dancing with Penelope to “Jingle Bell Rock.”
I turn on the light and peek into the oven.
“How was your bath?”
“Oh my god, so perfect.” I fill the tea kettle and plug it into the outlet. “When’s your family coming?”
“Not until closer to five. They wanted to give us some alone time for our first Christmas.” He continues to bounce and sway in the living room.
“You mean all day cuddling on the sectional? What if we open gifts?”
“Just one. Let’s spread them out through the day.”
“Then we have to open this one first.” I pick up a box wrapped in red and gold stripes with a gold bow.
Koen sits on the sofa, laying Penelope beside him. She kicks and sucks at her fists.
“Shouldn’t Penelope open a gift first?”
I smirk. “I think she’ll be fine with you opening one first.”
He grins, untying the bow while I pick up my little girl and give her the boob she wants more than her fists.
“Worst gift ever,” he says.
I giggle. “I’m going to remind you of that when it’s past midnight, and you’re working on that two-thousand-piece puzzle instead of taking your diaper-changing shift.”
He inspects the picture. “Is this …”
I nod. “It’s the park where I fell in the pond. I took a picture and had it made into a puzzle.”
“It would be better if you were in the pond.”
“Har har.” I roll my eyes.
“Let’s go, Scrot.” He stands. “Let’s get your breakfast.”
Scrot jumps up from his bed and follows Koen to the kitchen. Our precious Scrotum hasn’t decided what he thinks of Penelope, but he whines when she cries, so we believe he’s her advocate and protector.