Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 87368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 437(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 437(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
My wide gaze flicks to him, and I swear I feel my heart in my throat. “I can’t go in there alone.”
He shakes his head quickly. “No, I’d never do that to you,” he says softly, and damn it, his words light me up. They soothe the terrified parts of my brain, and when his hand covers mine on my thigh, I find myself desperate for his touch. Despite knowing that it’s not a good idea to hold the hand of your baby daddy, I wrap my fingers tightly around his. “I was going to suggest I call Ingrid, have her come out and sit with Arwen since she’s napping.” I glance back just as he says that, finding my daughter knocked the hell out. Lucky duck. I wonder if I can act like I’m sleeping? “Then once we get through the where have you beens, and OMG, why did you leave us, and OMG, we missed you, we can have Ingrid bring her in. And surprise, Baba and Dede!” He does jazz hands like Arwen, and all I can do is gawk at him.
“Do you truly believe it’ll be that easy?”
He shrugs. “Not at all, but if I manifest it, it will be.”
I blink. “Let your therapist know that daily affirmation app is working swell for you.”
He snorts. “Swell.”
God, he’s a child.
I close my eyes and draw a deep breath in through my nose. “Fine, call Ingrid. God, she’s going to cuss me out in words and sign.”
He chuckles. “Probably.”
Not even five minutes later, the door into the garage opens, and Ingrid is flying through it. Ingrid has always been the most gorgeous girl I’ve ever seen. She has porcelain-white skin, a dark black mane that goes to her bottom, and the sweetest brown eyes that are so round and framed with such soft, pretty lashes. I swear they don’t clump or take away from her eyes. They add to them, making them brighter. She’s very petite, small shoulders, a tiny waist, and short little legs.
And one look at her has tears pouring out of my eyes.
I jump out of the car, meeting her halfway as we collide in a tangle of limbs. She buries her face in my neck as I hold her tight, pressing my nose into her hair as a sob racks my body. God, I’ve missed her. While Thatcher was my best friend, Ingrid is a part of my soul. We have almost a ten-year age gap, but that doesn’t change the connection between us. I kiss her ear since it’s the closest to me, and I notice her ear gear is blue, when usually it’s bright pink or purple. I pull back, grasping her cheeks in my hand as I meet her eyes that are gushing with tears. She hasn’t changed a bit. Even though her features are dark, everything is so bright in her eyes. I wait for the anger to settle in her eyes, or the hate, but all I see is irrevocable love.
“I’m so sorry,” I tell her, tucking her hair behind her ears. “I have missed you so much.”
She lifts her hands so that her fingers are in my face, and I don’t have to remove mine from her. She signs as she says, “I can’t believe you left me like that. I have been lost without you and have written you almost every day.”
She uses her fingers to wipe my face free of tears, and I lean into her left palm. “I will read them all and write you back.”
At that, we both smile. She bounces on her toes, her grin as unstoppable as her tears. “You’re really home.”
“I’m home,” I say, and then we embrace once more. I feel her body shake with her sobs and mine come harder, so I try to hold us closer to stop us from shaking. It doesn’t work.
She pulls back once more. Her brows scrunch together. “Not a fan of your hair.”
I let out a belly laugh. “I figured you wouldn’t be. You’ve always loved my hair.”
She kisses my cheek in a low, smacking kiss. “Because it was beautiful! Hopefully Mom has someone to fix that.” We share a smile because we both know between my mom and hers, someone will have a stylist who can bring back my strawberry-blond. Her smile fades quickly, and a scowl fills her features as she points at me before using her hands to sign. “And oh my goodness, Arwen? How did you have a baby without me and not name her after me?”
I snort, leaning my head into hers. “It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but having her wasn’t as bad.”
Our laughter mingles again as her eyes search mine. “I’m an aunt.”
Oh, I love her sweet voice. I cup her jaw. “You are, and she is just like you. So smart, so dazzling, and you would have been proud of how quickly she learned to sign.”