Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 104252 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104252 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
“A girl. Uncle Cam will still teach her how to swing a bat. She can use it for other things.”
“You’re a great guy, Cam. If we have a little girl, I know she’s going to adore you.”
I snort. “That baby is a boy. He knows it, I know it, and you know it. He better not come out flashing nothing but a pair of balls.”
Maribel bursts into laughter on the other end of the line. It’s good to hear her laugh. I wish I had the visual to go with the sound. I could watch her gorgeous face for hours.
I love that her skin always seems to glow with a bronze hue. It’s like that light is beaming from within. I close my eyes and try to picture it now.
“Cam?” she yawns.
“Yeah, baby?”
“It’s a struggle to keep my eyes open. I should probably go to sleep. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”
“Get some sleep. I love you.”
“I love you too. Brush this one off, babe. There’s always the next one.”
“Sleep tight, gorgeous.”
I don’t tell her that if I keep going like this, there might not be a next one. I’m either going down to the triple-A or they’re going to place my ass on waivers. Either way, I can’t find it in me to care. I want to be with my family and I’m not going to be happy until I am.
“Goodnight, Cam.”
“Night, baby.”
CHAPTER 42
Twins
Maribel
Two months later …
“We will need to leave now to make the appointment. It is a thirty-minute ride with traffic. There is a fifty-one-percent chance of rain which could increase our travel time and cause a delay in our arrival,” Sim says as she enters the kitchen where I’m finishing a bowl of fruit.
I’m going in for an ultrasound today. Dr. Livingston wants me to come into his office instead of the home visits because of my size. I look like I swallowed a whale.
I’m six months pregnant but look more like twelve. I should have known this would happen. I mean, look at this kid’s father, nearly six-seven and built like a tractor. This kid is bound to rip my little kitty up.
“I’m ready,” I say as I place a hand over my huge belly.
“Let me carry your bag.”
She comes forward to take my oversized purse. I give her a smile, but she doesn’t return it. I’m not offended.
I’ve come to learn this is who Sim is. She’s extremely smart and if you ask her something, she’s going to give the most detailed response she can, often sounding like an encyclopedia.
I begin to waddle behind her as we head for the garage where the cars are parked. I’m a little nervous about this visit. Dr. Livingston has been getting this look on his face that worries me.
I missed the ultrasound scheduled at his office last month because Cam wanted to be there, but his plans didn’t work out. He felt like he was being followed and turned back.
I was so disappointed. Dr. Livingston was going to bring in a portable machine but one of the other doctors in his practice broke the only one they had and we ended up not doing it at all. Sim was ready to order one just for me, but I wouldn’t allow it.
She has already spoiled me like a big sister. I get that she makes good money in her line of work and her husband—whoever he is—keeps her pampered with anything she wants. However, I’m not here to take her money.
“I would like to start a nursery for you and the baby. We don’t know how much longer you will be with me, but I don’t want to be caught unprepared. If you leave before the baby is born, I can have it all shipped to you.”
“Sim,” I drag out.
“It is not a problem. You have become a friend. I want to do this for you. My family doesn’t mind if I spend the money. Allow me to do this for you.”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Yes.”
“What’s the deal with your husband?”
I feel bad for asking as soon as the words are out of my mouth. Symphony begins to pop the band she keeps on her right wrist. It’s something I picked up on within my first week here.
When she’s uncomfortable or upset, she begins to pop the band. My mind races with things to change the subject to.
“We are not married in the traditional sense. My husband married me as a favor to my grandfather. It was to keep me safe.
“There is more I cannot tell you. Not if I want to leave you alive. I like you and I don’t wish to kill you.”
I look at her like she’s crazy, waiting for her to laugh. She never does. She’s totally serious.
“I think we understand each other more than you know. My story isn’t exactly the same, but I get it,” I say, trying to cut through some of the tension.