Total pages in book: 48
Estimated words: 47200 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 236(@200wpm)___ 189(@250wpm)___ 157(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 47200 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 236(@200wpm)___ 189(@250wpm)___ 157(@300wpm)
“Honey?” I ask her in a commanding tone, hearing her giggle once she’s down the ladder.
“I gotta do something while you’re gone,” she groans. “And it’s gonna rain tomorrow. I just wanted to get another coat of paint on those eaves you put up last week.”
My little virgin turned house renovator.
God, I love her.
“Well, just wait ‘til I get there, will ya. I’m like ten…fifteen minutes away.”
I'm heading home with a truckload of building supplies and even more paint, a fresh wardrobe of lingerie for my girl, and a take-out dinner we can eat anytime.
We’ve spent more time in the old place, especially since we started fixing up the outside. May and I have fallen in love with the house.
Steve minds my place whenever he’s working his business on the coast, and we keep an eye on his place whenever he’s away, which is more and more these days.
He was slow to warm to the idea of May and me lasting as a couple. But he melted like butter once we told him the good news about her being pregnant.
The happiest grandpa-to-be I’ve ever seen.
And with her baby bump showing, it’s dawned on me that anything stressful or potentially dangerous should be banned for the time being. I need to be satisfied that May’s got everything she needs to be comfortable, healthy, safe, and happy while our little baby grows inside her.
And while I’m mindful of my own safety, I always notice my belly itch and my foot a little heavier on the gas on the rare occasions I do go out and leave May on her own, which is never longer than I really need to.
Today I wanted to go alone so I could surprise her with some new underwear.
Oh. And a little something else, but that can wait until after dinner.
She’s been complaining about getting ‘fat.’ Whatever that means, I still can’t see it myself.
She’s tiny compared to me, if anything, that baby bump is the hottest damn thing I’ve ever seen her wearing.
I can’t wait for her to get bigger.
I can’t wait to be a dad.
But a dad needs a wife. Hence today’s little trip to the hardware store, among other places.
Reaching home in record time, I do a double take when I see that she’s been up that ladder. The eaves are freshly painted, making the place look like a million bucks already.
Making my way inside, I catch her coming out of what will be the baby’s room.
A paintbrush in her hand, and just as I predicted, a little smudge of bright blue paint on her rosy, round cheek.
“Hey, you,” I greet her, feeling my heart, as well as something else, swell when I watch her curves moving over to me.
Teasing me under that denim, with only parts of her bare skin and breasts flashing me all the right signals with every step she takes.
“Hi…,” she says innocently. And I know in a second that she’s up to something.
“Whatcha been doing?” I quiz her, trying to sound casual but dying to know once her own smirk flashes across her features.
It’s hard for us to really surprise each other because we’re so bad at keeping things a secret for longer than a few minutes.
But sometimes it works, like today with the lingerie. And my after-dinner surprise….
I pretend to look past her, eyeing the closed door she’s just come out of.
“Painting in there, huh?” I ask with mock suspicion, letting her chirp a simple ‘yup’ before I move to go past her and see for myself what’s really been going on while I’ve been away.
“Brandon, no! It’s a surprise,” she calls after me, reaching for me and missing as I take longer steps, throwing the door open.
“Aha!” I exclaim, pointing an accusing finger into the mostly empty room.
But the wind’s taken out of my sails when I see the antique crib she’s sanded back, painting it the same color as the eaves outside.
Baby blue.
“I’ve been working on it whenever you go out,” she confides in me, hooking her arm around my waist and resting her head against me.
“Is it blue for a reason?” I ask, slowly catching on but feeling more than just a little swelling of pride and emotion.
And there I was telling her not to climb ladders…
“We’re gonna have a little baby boy,” she whispers, sliding a tiny photo from her overalls pocket.
“See?” she squeaks. “I guess I went out myself when you thought I was here all alone. Does that make me horrible?” she asks, gnawing at her lip.
But I’ve forgotten all about it already. My eyes are transfixed by the blurry little image of our unborn son, the picture trembling in my fingers as I crimp my mouth. Holding back the urge to cry, scream and yeah… shout for joy.
“He’s so beautiful,” I whisper, tracing the tiny features until all I can see is my broad fingertip covering the little guy.