Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 60931 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 305(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60931 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 305(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
“Thank you,” I say, catching my breath. “I needed that.”
Eric’s body shakes with light laughter. “You don’t ever have to thank me for … that.”
“Well,” I feather my fingers along his back, “you deserve something—a medal, a gold star. Maybe a cookie bouquet. At the very least … a high five.”
More laughter vibrates his body before he eases off me. “How’s your ankle?” Concern lines his face while he pulls up his briefs and shorts.
“Fine.” I sit up. “Can you hand me my shirt now?”
He plucks my shirt off the floor and turns it right side out before sliding it over my head and helping me thread my arms through it.
“Thank you.”
“Need help getting to the bathroom?”
“Nope.” I stand and slide my crutches under my arms more confidently than one should be, with their panties hanging from their boot.
Eric stands in my way, giving me a funny look.
“Excuse me,” I say.
He holds up his hand. I stare at it. What is he doing?
“High five.”
I try hard to keep a straight face, but it’s impossible. After all, I did suggest the bare minimum of a high five. “Well done.” I slap his hand.
He grins. Then he steps aside so I can clean up and piece myself back together.
“So …” I steal his attention away from his phone when I return. “That, uh … happened.”
Eric gives me a reassuring smile, instantly putting me at ease. “I regret nothing.”
“I’m not on the pill.”
He maintains his smile, but his Adam’s apple bobs and his eyes widen slightly.
“Still no regrets?”
It takes him a few seconds, but he manages to ease his head side to side in tiny increments.
“I’m not leaving my job. You’ll have to move here. Or we can have shared custody, but I plan on breastfeeding for at least a year, so you can’t have our baby in Kansas City until she’s weaned.” I sit next to him and prop my crutches against the nightstand.
“Why would I live in Kansas City if my baby’s here?”
“Your job. Family. Friends.” I scoot around to get my legs under the sheet.
Eric eyes me when I lay my head on the pillow, demanding my full attention. His expression softens, and he shuts off the lamp by my bed and crawls next to me, enveloping me in his arms while kissing my head. “Why do you think it’s a girl?”
“That’s your response? Not an apology? Not an ounce of panic? Are you kidding me?”
“You thanked me. We high-fived. Now I’m supposed to apologize and panic?”
“I’m on the pill,” I mumble in defeat. “But would it kill you to show a little more responsibility?”
“I know you’re on the pill. They’re on your nightstand.”
How is he still one-upping me?
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Eric
I wake at five and untangle Anna’s body from mine. I’m pretty sure her boot permanently indented my shin. When I’m showered and dressed, I peek into her bedroom, but she’s still asleep—not a flinch. I’m not sure how that happened last night; it just did. Everything with her seems to happen without much thought. When I’m with her, I want to touch her, kiss her, consume her. It’s been that way since the day we met, and three years didn’t do anything to change that. I’d like to stare at her until she opens her eyes, but I have to check on my dad.
He’s an early riser but not an actual morning person. And I fear he could be in a bad way this morning after a night without his pajamas. However, he’s nowhere to be found when I open the hotel room door.
“Dad?” I call his name as if he’s hiding behind the curtains or in the shower with the light off. He’s not. “Where the hell are you?” I mumble, glancing at the locator on my phone. It shows him in the hotel.
Breakfast.
I bet he’s in the lobby seeing if he can get a mimosa minus the orange juice. I call him after searching the lobby and the restaurant serving a breakfast buffet. The chances of him answering are nearly zero. He’s great at calling me at all hours but refuses to answer when I, or anyone, calls him.
“This is Bill; I’m not answering right now. Leave a message or call Alice, Keeper of All Things.” I cringe hearing his voicemail. I’ve asked him repeatedly to change it. My mom is no longer his “Keeper of All Things.” By default, that’s my job, and I’m doing a shitty job of it today.
One more time, I check the hotel room in case we missed each other on the elevators.
No luck.
Plopping onto his bed, my butt hits something. I pull back the bedding and discover his phone—silenced and alight with a missing call from me. Great. He’s wandering around without his phone. I write him a note and leave it on the desk beside his phone.