Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 118125 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 591(@200wpm)___ 473(@250wpm)___ 394(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 118125 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 591(@200wpm)___ 473(@250wpm)___ 394(@300wpm)
And they’d pretended not to notice they had an audience, dozens of curious eyes peeking out through dorm room windows, as they’d thrown woven crowns of flowers into the pond and wished to Isabella of the Lake for a dozen, a hundred, an eternity’s years of perfect love.
As Damon looked into Rian’s eyes now, and saw the raw emotion running through him reflected in liquid depths of tawny gold...
He thought, perhaps, Isabella had granted their wish.
He tore away from the captivating depths of Rian’s gaze, though, as a little hand latched onto his shirt and pulled. Damon looked down, into wide brown eyes set into a round, heart-shaped face.
“Lift me up, Daddy!” Nanette lisped, letting go of Rian’s hand and holding both her arms up, rising up on her toes and straining to reach him with little insistent nnh-nhh-nhh sounds. “I can’t see!”
Her sister echoed; they tended to do that twin thing, mirroring each other’s actions and wants, and Nina raised her arms with a little cry of, “Me too!”
“Okay, okay.”
He bent to scoop Nanette up in one arm, her ruffled skirt flaring around her as he hefted her up to perch on his shoulder. She barely weighed as much as one of the flower petals printed on her skirt, and he held her clamped easily in place with his forearm while he bent again to gather up her sister and settle her on the opposite shoulder. Both girls grasped onto his neck and his head with tiny giggles; he got a couple of fingers in one eye, another up his nose, a few more tangled in his hair, but he held still until they wiggled themselves into place, tucking themselves into the crooks of his neck and shoulders and using the top of his head like a pillow.
“Better?” he asked dryly—and got another spate of giggles in response.
Followed by a soft, hesitant, “What about me?”
Anton looked up at them shyly, with that certain reticence that said he was accustomed to asking for things and being told no—no, there wasn’t enough; no, he wasn’t enough. It had taken almost a month to impress on him that it was okay to ask for anything, and he was still so hesitant about it, so tense; once children learned negative programming it was often hardwired in their brains, and it took constant reinforcement to overcome.
But Damon’s arms were full, and he didn’t want to tell Anton no.
Rian didn’t miss a beat, bending to wrap his long, slender arms around Anton’s waist, dipping down like a flower stem bending gracefully under the weight of its own head. “Daddy’s out of shoulders, so...” With a playful little sound, he lifted Anton up, pretending to strain with an exaggerated sound as he stood. “Up you go with Papa, little one.”
With a startled squeal that turned into a laugh, Anton clung on tight while Rian maneuvered him up onto his shoulders, settling Anton so that his legs dangled down to either side of Rian’s neck. Anton held on tight to both of Rian’s hands, but then pouted, looking over at Damon and the twins with his lower lip thrust out.
“... Nina and Nan are higher up.”
Rian let out a patient chuckle. “Unfortunately I can’t get quite as tall as Daddy. But if you hold on tight...”
With a little deft maneuvering, Rian caught Anton around the waist and lifted him up in both hands; for a moment Anton kicked his feet nervously, then braced them against Rian’s shoulders. He wobbled—but Rian held him firm until he found his legs and straightened, clutching at Rian’s wrists and forearms before his entire face lit up in a broad grin.
“There we go,” Rian soothed, and Anton laughed, raising his arms and stretching toward the sky.
“I’m tall!” he said, and Rian let out an indulgent laugh warm with so much affection, so much love.
“Yes, you are, little man.”
Damon watched them fondly, his ribs binding up with every breath with the force of the emotion threatening to break him open. “He’s going to fall,” he murmured teasingly, and Rian threw him an arch look.
“He’s not going to fall,” he said, but firmed his grip on Anton nonetheless. “I’ve got him. Mind your two, they’re squirmers.”
Damon snorted and turned his head to blow a raspberry against Nina’s upper arm. “Daddy’s little wiggle worms.”
“I’m not a worm!” Nanette protested, while Nina snickered.
“I am!” she said, and wriggled her bottom against Damon’s shoulder.
“Hey,” Damon said, tightening his grip. “Keep it still, or you go back down.”
She pouted but settled against him, just a small ball of warmth that still carried a little baby smell even though she and her sister often reminded him that they were almost seven, little girls grown, and Anton was almost five.
He often told the twins they were six going on sixty, but really...