Total pages in book: 197
Estimated words: 199143 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 996(@200wpm)___ 797(@250wpm)___ 664(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 199143 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 996(@200wpm)___ 797(@250wpm)___ 664(@300wpm)
“Are you going to apologize now?”
Gian barely had to think about that.
“I will apologize for hurting you—not for what I did. The same way I did when I came home and told you, Cara.”
“Do you even regret it?”
He didn’t have to think about that, either. He couldn’t find regret in giving his boys something that may very well define the rest of their lives—and God, he wanted each of his children to find themselves and not just reflect him. He did, however, regret what came after that choice. And every reason for that was tied into the woman who wouldn’t come close enough to let him touch her.
Because he knew ...
And so did she ...
If he touched her, if she let him close, Cara would forget all of it. She’d let him apologize until his tongue bled and his throat ached. She would forgive him.
She still would like this, too.
Eventually.
But this way allowed her to be angry—for as long as she damn well pleased—and after, to work through it in a healthy way. Gian would let her, too. He always would. As he said, everything that became his, well, he quickly gave it back to her.
Even herself.
“All of my regrets always boil down to what I’ve done to you. Does that tell you enough or do you need me to say more?”
It took Cara a second. Then, two.
“You can come back to our bed, Gian.”
“Are you still angry?”
“Very,” she whispered.
“I’m sorry.”
“I know, Gian. That’s what makes this worse.”
The Twins, a short story
Chapter 1 - Gian POV
Gian Guzzi thought his wife had her most beautiful moments when she didn’t realize people were watching her. Like in that very moment. Tired because she was seven and a half months pregnant with twins and already a mother to three young and rowdy boys who kept her running from one end of their mansion to the other, she had every reason to want to sit alone in the corner of their private physician’s office and enjoy the silence.
Wasn’t she owed a bit of quiet time?
He thought so.
Tried to give it to her often, in fact.
But the little girl across the waiting room in her yellow dress, sad about something her father wouldn’t give her, gained his wife’s attention and that was that. Suddenly, she entertained the little girl, making her smile and happy, while giving the exhausted-looking dad across the room a break. By the time the child’s mother came out of the back hallway where they kept the private patient rooms, also looking about as pregnant as his wife, the girl had stopped throwing her tantrum, the father was smiling again, and Cara flipped through a magazine as though she hadn’t done a thing.
All the while, Gian just ... watched her.
Very little fazed Cara Guzzi anymore. He couldn’t remember the last time she had gotten really angry about something—but especially regarding him or their boys. He liked to think that was partly because of him and how much effort he put into ensuring her constant happiness—as he’d once promised to do—but he wasn’t that selfish.
A lot of this, and their life ...
Well, Cara did all that herself.
Queens did what queens did.
Even if that just happened to be calming down someone else’s child while waiting for your own doctor’s appointment. Considering their own hoard of children, it was safe to say they had their fair share of public meltdown moments. Some of which came with judgment from others, and both he and Cara made a great effort not to do that same thing to other parents.
Five minutes in public with a child wasn’t very telling about anything except for the fact that children would always be children.
“Mrs. and Mr. Guzzi?” Gian’s attention drifted away from his softly smiling wife at the call of their name. The receptionist who also acted as a nurse in the office greeted them with a warm wave as she said, “Your room is ready if you’d like to come back and wait while Dr. Belled finishes up his report.”
Gian was up out of his seat before the woman could even finish her statement with a hand waiting for his wife. Cara’s palm slid into his as she tossed her magazine aside. With his bit of support—she never had to ask for it; he was always ready with it—allowed her to lift from her seat with the same grace she’d used to sit in it.
One wouldn’t guess she was having any trouble in her final months of pregnancy in that second, she carried all of it so incredibly well.
Yes, she was beautifully swollen with his children. Twins, again. Their last children, also, because they’d decided and he had already gone in to have the vasectomy. He didn’t say a word—just made the appointment the day after she asked and had that shit done.