Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 28026 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 140(@200wpm)___ 112(@250wpm)___ 93(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 28026 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 140(@200wpm)___ 112(@250wpm)___ 93(@300wpm)
So I’m relieved to be back in Vegas, sheltered in Christian’s huge apartment. The baby is safe, happy, and well-cared for, and the alpha male even went out of his way to find a full-time nanny for our child.
“That isn’t necessary,” I mumbled when I found out. “I don’t have a job right now, so I have more than enough time to take care of Blaze. We’re very close. Our mother-child bond is strong.”
Christian nodded, his blue eyes gentle for once.
“I know, and I can see that,” he said, nodding at the sleeping child in my arms. “But you’re tired, Emily. I can see it in your face, and your eyes. You’ve been caring for our son on your own for more than a year, so let me take some of the burden from you. Blaze is my child too, and you deserve a break.”
I didn’t have the energy to resist. The fact is that I am exhausted from new motherhood, and I’ve been drained in every way imaginable. I feel as if I’ve aged fifteen years in one year, and that my body isn’t my own. I have giant teats filled with milk; a mommy belly that remains poochy and soft; as well as tender lady parts that sometimes still ache from the aftermath of labor. But who am I kidding? I also ache because I’m around Christian all the time now. His dark, domineering form is in the apartment more often than not because as CEO, he’s decided to work from home. He takes calls from an office at the end of the hall, his baritone commanding and forceful. Then, he comes outside and bounces our baby boy in his lap, laughing along with our child in his deep voice.
The sight makes me melt inside because Christian was meant to be a father. The way he looks at Blaze makes my heart soften, and our child looks just like his daddy too, with the same dark hair and bright blue eyes. Even Blaze’s toothless smile resembles his father, with the same dimple in his right cheek and mirthful belly laughs.
But now, we need to figure this out. Us. The prospect makes my soul quiver because is there even an ‘us’? Is there a path forward for me and Christian that goes beyond impersonal co-parenting? I can accept it if that’s all there is, but inside, I yearn. I miss his big hands. I miss that huge chest, the perfect pillow when I’m tired or upset. I miss hearing his baritone, at once soothing and calm, but also deep with promise, anger, or lust. Christian Degas is the real deal, and my heart swoops and falls as we walk to the car from my mother’s grave. Does he feel it too?
Swallowing hard, I force myself to speak. I’ve done so many things wrong, and I need to tell him, in plain English, of my regrets.
“I’m sorry for the way things turned out, Christian,” I say in a low voice, staring at my toes as we walk. “This isn’t what I thought would happen.”
He nods, looking straight ahead as he carries Blaze in his strong arms. Terror reigns in my heart again. Will the alpha male forgive me, or will I always be on his shit list, only tolerated because I’m the mother of his child? I know I deserve to be excoriated and to my horror, tears prick my eyes once more. I dash them away, angry at myself for being such a mess all the time. Why can’t I get it together, and come off as a cool, competent, and sophisticated woman? I guess I’ll always be a blubbering fool, at least where this man is concerned.
Even worse, Christian doesn’t say anything immediately. We reach the car, and he pops open the back door before placing our sleeping child in the car seat. Then he takes his damn time buckling Blazey in, and covering our child’s sleeping form with a soft blanket before shutting the door and turning to me. To my surprise, his expression isn’t angry or accusatory. Instead, it’s soft. Or at least as soft as a man so hard can be.
“I know, Emily,” he says in a deep voice. “None of this turned out the way we thought it would. But it’s okay now. We have our child, and he’s safe and loved by both parents. We made it out fine.”
Still, tears tremble on my lashes.
“Yes, I know,” I say in a small voice, staring at a crack in the sidewalk. “Thank you for everything. It’s just that—” My breath catches and I can’t speak because my heart is pounding so hard. Nerves make my knees weak and I don’t know if I can say it. I don’t know if I can declare my love for this man when I’ve treated him so abominably. He has every right to hate me, and the tears begin to flow again.