Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 79211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
“Not yet.”
He growls. I told him everything and his taste for retribution is as strong as mine. I forgive him for being a know-it-all.
“Good luck tomorrow. I’m gonna get some rest, will fill you in when the baby gets here.”
I can’t help but needle him one more time. “Hard not being able to control something, eh?”
“Happy to remind you what I can control, asshole.”
I groan. Touché.
“Good luck to you, too. You’ll need it.”
He hangs the phone up with a deep sigh. I do like to get the last word in.
I roll my shoulders and yawn. Need to get some rest.
Tomorrow begins Harper’s first lesson in how to shoot to kill.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Harper
I wake beside Aleks. Blink. And promptly leap out of bed.
Was it a dream?
“Relax,” he grumbles, his big hand wrapping around my wrist and dragging me back down. “There’s a monitor.”
He points to the monitor on the bedside table that shows the sleeping form of my daughter in the other room.
My daughter. God. How did this even happen? It feels so strange and hard to grasp.
I fall back on the bed, my heart beating too fast. “Are you sure she’s breathing?”
He points back in the monitor’s direction. “Yes. See how her little chest goes up and down? She’s very happily sleeping. I can set up biometrics if you want.” He settles into his pillow and shuts his eyes.
Might seem a little over the top, but…
How did I get here? I think back.
I have a vague recollection of Aleks waking me up and carrying me to bed, then tucking me in. Ivy was already asleep.
“What time is it?” I ask.
He opens one eye, his voice groggy with sleep. He is not amused. “Middle of the fucking night and I’m exhausted. Go back to sleep.” He closes it again.
I try, but it’s more early morning than middle of the night, and I can’t sleep. My mind’s racing with everything that’s happened in such a short time.
I pace around the room and stare at the monitor. I look at Aleks, bare-chested in a pair of boxers, one arm lazily flung over his eyes, his huge hand on the pillow. I stare at his tattoos, only shimmers in the darkness.
He’s definitely asleep.
I don’t know what he does when I’m asleep, but he seems to have the sleeping pattern of a cat. Not totally nocturnal, he naps and lounges in small intervals only to wake up ready to go on the prowl and hunt. I, on the other hand, love sleep. It was a coping mechanism when I lived with my parents. They wouldn’t usually bother me when I was asleep.
I walk back to the monitor and see sweet Ivy. I’ve heard some kids aren’t good sleepers even at her age, but so far so good.
I need to see her. I want to prove to myself that she’s here and that she’s okay. I never had the privilege of looking after her in the middle of the night when she was a baby. It seems like it’s a rite of passage of sorts for a mother.
I might even climb back into bed with her, whether he likes it or not.
I tiptoe over to the door between our rooms. My hand on the knob, I wonder if I’m being overprotective.
I guess that’s a mother’s prerogative.
It is for some mothers, anyway. A little pang hits my chest. I can’t get back what I’ve lost, but I can control the next stage of my life.
I open the door and enter the room. From the doorway, I can hear the faintest sound of her breathing. See the gentle rise and fall of her chest. Little wisps of white-blonde hair are scattered on the tiny pillowcase. She clutches a little teddy bear in her chubby fist. My nose tingles and my eyes grow misty.
I kneel beside my daughter and gently smooth the wisps of hair away from her face and behind her ears. Bend and kiss her.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. Sorry for leaving her. Sorry for not keeping her the very second she left my body. I know I had no choice, but I don’t know how I’ll ever fully forgive myself.
How do I learn to be a good mother?
You love her unconditionally. You teach her. And if there was anything your parents did that was wrong or hurtful…you do the opposite.
What had my parents done that I hated?
Used me.
Treated me like an object.
Hit me when I annoyed them and downplayed my fears.
I guess it honestly wouldn’t be that hard to do better.
I can do this.
I want brothers and sisters for Ivy, too. A part of me wonders if he does.
Aleks isn’t like a regular guy you’d meet that might, say, coach Little League or teach them how to drive a car.
The two of us, both me and Ivy, are in a world that’s totally new. While Aleks says we’ve fast-tracked life, we have a lot to make up for. Maybe evolution or God or whatever made the gestation period for human children nine months to give our brains time to adjust to the concept of a helpless life-form fully dependent on us. I never let myself mentally prepare, because I knew I wasn’t going to be able to keep her.