Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 98211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
“Chase.” Harrison snaps his fingers, and I shake out of my thoughts and focus on my best friend. “I’m not even going to ask, because I know.” He’s grinning like he just won the lottery. “I’m even going to do you a solid and not mention it. This time.” He holds up one finger. “However, the next time, it’s on. I owe you years of bagging on me about my wife.”
I can’t hold back my smile. “I deserve it and can take whatever you want to throw my way. I get it now.”
“You done for the day?” he asks.
I glance at the clock once again. “Yeah, my four o’clock never showed.” It’s now twenty minutes after their scheduled time.
“Night shift crew is here.” Harrison points over to where the evening shift coordinator is talking to a group of women, early twenties if I had to guess. He’s a young guy, single, and he takes full advantage of that. “Head on home. I’m going to.”
“I’m sure Gabby could use a break.”
“By the way, we need to make plans so I can spend some time with my nephew.”
I nod as a slow smile tilts my lips. “We’re still adjusting, but you tell me when and we’ll make it happen.” With that, I rush back to the office, grab my bag and keys, and head out. I stop and pick up Chinese for dinner, hoping we will both get a break, and maybe get some sleep.
When I pull up to the house, the lights are out. Grabbing our food, I enter through the side garage door and see Gabby’s car. Quietly, I make my way into the house, setting our dinner on the island before I go in search of my girl, and my son.
My son.
That’s a hard one to get used to, but with each passing hour, the idea takes root. It’s hard for me to believe he’s mine when I don’t remember that night, but the evidence that he’s mine is there. I feel bad I don’t remember, and equally so for Gabby. I just finished telling her there’d been no one but her for a hell of a long time, and then an hour later, Milo shows up. It’s a slap in the face to her, but she’s been so understanding about it all. Not that I didn’t already know it, my life is better with her in it.
Making my way into the living room, the shades are pulled, but it’s still light enough outside that I can make out their sleeping forms on the couch. Gabby is propped up on a pillow, her hair a mess tied in a knot on top of her head, and there in her arms, her hands resting on his back, is my son.
Something that feels an awful lot like a vise squeezes my chest as I take in the sight before me. They both look so peaceful. Gabby is protecting him, holding him close. She’s protecting my son. Comforting him. Loving him. No, she hasn’t said the words, but I feel it. I see it. Pulling my phone from my pocket, I snap a quick picture to remember this moment.
Crouching to my knees, I lay my hand over hers on his back. Her eyes immediately flutter open at the contact. “Hey, beautiful,” I say, my voice husky.
“Hi.” She looks down at a sleeping Milo in her arms. “He’s been awake most of the day. I finally got him to rest and fell asleep.”
“Thank you for taking such good care of him.” I say the words over the knot forming in my throat. I never knew love could feel like this. This all-consuming need for another human being. And my son… I swallow hard. He’s a miracle I wasn’t expecting, and it’s still hard for me to grasp that he’s mine, but the little guy has his little fist tightened around my heartstrings.
“I brought dinner.” My free hand reaches up and cradles her cheek. “I missed you today.”
“You don’t have to sweet talk me, Callahan. I’m already yours.”
I don’t reply. I want to. I want to pound on my chest like a caveman and scream those words at the top of my lungs. I want to throw her over my shoulder, carry her up to my room, and make love to her until we’re both too exhausted to move. Instead, I lean in and kiss the corner of her mouth. “Love you,” I whisper before pulling back. “You want me to take him?” I change the subject. I know she’s not ready to say the words back and I’m okay with that. I’ve had a long time to come to terms with how I feel for her. She’s been fighting a lot longer. I’ll give her all the time she needs.
“Yeah, his playpen is over there.” She points over her head at the edge of the couch, where the playpen sits in the same spot I put it this morning before I left for work.