Total pages in book: 185
Estimated words: 180510 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 903(@200wpm)___ 722(@250wpm)___ 602(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 180510 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 903(@200wpm)___ 722(@250wpm)___ 602(@300wpm)
“You’ll win. We’re never having kids,” I say with confidence.
“Oh.” Katy looks at Colten for confirmation.
No confirmation needed. There is a zero percent chance of us having kids.
“Well…” Colten shoots me a sidelong glance “…never is a long time. Anything could happen.”
Nope. Not anything.
“Ready!” Reagan barrels down the stairs, dragging her duffel bag behind her.
Colten takes the bag and Reagan’s hand. “See you Wednesday.”
“Bye.” Katy leans down and kisses Reagan’s head. “Love you, sweetie.”
Reagan talks our ears off on the way to the airport.
“See the plane?” Colten points to the sky as we exit toward the terminal.
“Are we going in an airplane?” she asks, bursting with excitement.
I hope Becca can live up to the high expectation of a trip on a plane.
“No, Button. It’s something else.”
We park and head toward the gate. By the time we get there, Becca’s coming down the elevator.
“Grandma!” Reagan races toward her.
Apparently, Grandma is better than airplanes.
Colten steps behind me and wraps his arms around my waist, kissing my head. While Reagan has Becca preoccupied fifteen feet away from us, I turn in his arms because I have to get this off of my chest.
“I had a tubal ligation before I started med school. No babies.”
He frowns. “You had your tubes tied?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t want children.”
He shakes his head slowly. “But how could you know for certain at such a young age?”
“Colten, I’ve known this for as long as I can recall. I told you this when we were kids.”
“But that’s just it; we were kids.”
“And now I’m in my mid-thirties, and I still don’t want kids.”
I can’t read his expression, but it doesn’t give me a good feeling.
“Before we tell your mom and Reagan, you need to decide right now if Reagan is it for you. I will not be giving you a child. Not ever.”
“I choose you.” No hesitation. He says it so quickly, so confidently, it punches a hole in my gut. He’s giving me the kind of love most women only dream of. And I feel unworthy. “It’s you. No question.”
I nod just as he glances over my shoulder.
“What are you two up to?” Becca says, holding her arms out for Colten.
He hugs her before picking up Reagan, hiking her onto his hip. “I asked Josie to marry me, and she said yes.”
Incorrect. But I don’t squabble over the details.
Becca’s eyes fill with tears while she pulls me in for a hug. “Finally,” she whispers.
“I want to be the flower girl!” Reagan claps her hands together several times.
“Of course, Button.”
When Becca releases me, her palms press to my cheeks. “You’ve always been my daughter. I can’t believe my boy is finally making it official.”
I smile. “My mom’s coming tomorrow. How do you feel about shopping for a wedding dress?”
“Ah, perfect!” Her hands drop from my face and go straight to my left hand. “Where’s your ring?”
“It’s being fitted,” Colten says before I have a chance to answer. “Let’s get going. Parking is expensive.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
My mom arrives Saturday morning in time for the four of us girls to have lunch before shopping for dresses. While my mom chatters nonstop, Becca sips her post lunch coffee and strokes the back of Regan’s long, dark hair while she plays on her iPad.
I’m mesmerized by it, fixating on it. I can see it hanging from a tree in a cemetery. The silky strands whipping in the breeze. I can imagine what she’d look like without her hair. I know exactly what she would look like without a pulse. Without a breath. No reflexes. No pupillary constriction. Her skin would sag, making her prominent joints become pronounced. Her sphincters would relax, passing feces and urine. All the blood would drain from smaller veins. She’d be pallid. Pallor mortis. As hours pass, her body temperature would drop to the air temperature around it. Without a heartbeat, blood would pool from gravity. Livor mortis. More time would pass, and her muscles might stiffen. Children don’t always follow the same pattern as adults. Rigor mortis might spread from her jaw and neck to her chest, abdomen, and extremities. A lifeless body. The end of innocence.
“Where are you?” Mom rests her hand on my arm, tearing my gaze away from Reagan.
I feel warm. Too warm. And my heart’s racing fast. Too fast. “No … nowhere. I … um …” I scoot back in my chair. “I need to use the restroom. Please excuse me.” When I get to the ladies’ room, I splash water on my face and press several hand towels to it. Using the same towels, I shove them inside of my blouse and blot the sweat from my cleavage and armpits.
“She’s fine,” I whisper. “She’s fine.” I didn’t hurt Reagan. I would never hurt Reagan.
Right?
While I run my fingers through my hair, I curl them into fists and tug … tug more … harder … harder …