Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92136 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92136 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
“I was thinking that it’s your turn,” she said, starting to cry. “So don’t attack me. I’ve had to do it alone all this time. Do you think that was easy?”
“I don’t know how it was, because you never told me. I would have helped you.”
“Bullshit. You made it perfectly clear that all you wanted was no-strings sex. You would’ve thrown some money at me and then you would’ve been gone. Don’t pretend otherwise.”
“You don’t know what I would’ve done! You don’t know anything about me.” Which had been on purpose, of course. I was surprised I’d even given her my number.
“I know your type. Big spender, big talker, big dick. But beyond money and sex and a good time, nothing matters to you.”
“That’s not true,” I said, wondering if she was right and also if it was wrong to feel a little bit good that she’d said I have a big dick.
“Then prove it. Be a father to her for one week.”
My heart pounded harder. “A week? I can’t have her for a whole week.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’ve got work and plans and life.” I turned around to pace in the other direction and saw Emme coming down the stairs, her arms folded across her chest. She still wore my T-shirt, her legs and feet bare, her hair a long tangled mess. But the sunlight lit her beautifully, almost angelically. My body warmed, our eyes locked, and in my head I heard her words from last night. Maybe you’re just like the rest of them—all talk.
Fuck that. I wasn’t like those spineless douchebags she dated. I wasn’t.
“Well, guess what?” Rachel went on. “Your life now includes a baby. One week, Nate. That’s all I’m asking. If you want to walk away after that, fine. I’ll take full responsibility, since I was the one who made the choice not to tell you at the start. But if you can’t even handle that—”
“I can,” I declared out of nowhere, my eyes still on Emme, her voice still in my head. “So you can go take your rest or whatever, and come back for her in a week. You know what? Make it two weeks.”
At that, Emme’s eyes bugged out.
“Two weeks?” Rachel laughed cruelly. “You can’t handle two weeks. I bet you barely handled one night.”
“Actually, make it a month.”
Emme’s mouth fell open. She covered it with one hand.
“What?” Rachel squawked.
“You heard me. Make it a month.”
“You’re crazy.”
“No, I’m not. I’m a grown-ass man taking responsibility for my actions.”
Emme’s hand fell from her mouth, and she smiled.
“So you can call if you want to know how she’s doing, but other than that, I can handle this all on my own. Goodbye, Rachel.”
I ended the call, praying I wouldn’t faint. Just in case, I went into the kitchen and braced myself against the island with both hands. Took a few deep breaths.
Emme came into the kitchen.“So,” she said, arms still folded over her chest. “A month.”
I tried to appear calm and collected, turning toward her and propping one hand on my hip like I was leaning against the counter in a casual way and not for support. My body was tilted at a strange and uncomfortable forty-five degree angle. “I’ve been thinking of taking some time off work anyway.”
Her eyebrows went up. I was a total workaholic and she knew it. “Oh?”
“Yeah. And I think… I think it could be good for me. You know, not to be so selfish for a while.” A sweat had broken out on my forehead.
She nodded. “Of course.”
“And it’s only for a month. A month isn’t that long.” I said it, but already I was wondering if a month meant four weeks or 31 days. And was yesterday day one or was today?
Paisley began to cry, and both of us looked in the direction of the stairs.
“She’s probably hungry,” Emme said.
“Already?” It was barely seven, and we’d just fed her at three.
“Babies her age eat often. Every few hours.”
“Seriously?”
She grinned ruefully. “We need to get you a few baby books so you can learn all this stuff. And you probably need some baby items—a stroller, some kind of crib, maybe a swing, or at least a bouncy chair.”
Inwardly I groaned, picturing my awesome, manly loft with baby furniture in it. “Really? Even if it’s just for a month?”
Emme cocked her head. “It’s not just for a month, Nate. Even if Rachel came back for her today, you are still her father. For life.”
There was something fierce in her eyes, something that dared me to disagree with her. Or maybe something that suspected I would disagree with her, and prove that she had been right about me. That I was all talk, and not really man enough to handle being a father. I didn’t want her to think that, even if I was scared it was the truth.