Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 128430 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 514(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128430 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 514(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
“Hey,” he says, then kisses me. Left breathless and wanting more, he says, “You’re not just great sex to me. You’re also the love of my life. That’s our story, and I’m sticking to it.”
I kiss him just as our bodies align to come together again, and then whisper, “I’m that good, huh?”
Chuckling, he says, “Best I ever had.”
44
Story
Sunday . . .
* * *
“Five feet,” I remind my Tigger of a kid. He’s so excited he’s practically bouncing like his favorite fictional character. Reed is leading us straight to the tigers. He knows the path from the entrance of the Bronx Zoo to the exhibit.
I keep him close for safety but give the five-year-old enough freedom to feel he’s pushing boundaries. Cooper and I usually hold hands, but overly crowded places, like the zoo on Sundays, have us prepared to dart.
Shifting the backpack he’s wearing with our day’s supply of necessities, he glances at me. “How are you feeling?”
My amazing man. He’s worried about me right now? “I’m good.”
His arm comes around my shoulders, and he squeezes me close to kiss my head. “It’s going to be a change. I don’t think a big one, but a change from one parent to having two. I know you’re okay with that, but more so that you’re ready for it.”
“I’m ready.” I hate losing the contact when he lunges forward right before a family comes between us and our kid. Already the protective dad, always has been with Reed, and protective of me in other ways.
Cooper doesn’t need to work, but he shares with others what he does for us—cares for us and our needs. I saw it when he first met Reed and the way he kneeled to give our son eye contact and to speak on his level, to listen to him and let our son’s imagination soar.
I caught a glimpse of that on graduation day when Cooper and Jake walked ahead of Lila and me. Jake was around Reed’s age now and totally looked up to this amazing man who talked to him with respect, but also listened to him. I see Cooper treat Reed the same.
And although it was a fleeting time in our lives, Cooper braved a storm and floods to get medicine for me. He took care of me when I was basically a stranger. Well, a stranger who he’d just slept with, but he could have left. He came back. He came back to take care of me. I have doubt that he’ll spend his life caring for his family.
I catch up to them ahead at the exhibit. We didn’t discuss who would say what or rehearse it, so I’m not surprised that Cooper is waiting for me to take the lead. I wait for my little monkey to climb onto the ledge of the viewing window and then point at the smaller tigers lounging in the sun. “Which one is the mommy?”
“That one,” Reed says, pointing.
I had no plan, but this seems like one that works for him. “Why that one?”
“Because the smaller one is only five feet away.”
Cooper and I exchange a knowing smile when he kneels on the other side of Reed. I ask, “And which one is the daddy tiger?”
He looks between the ones we see but doesn’t answer. I don’t know why I feel a knot in my stomach, but it’s growing bigger every second.
Reed turns to eye Cooper and then he touches the faint lines on the side of his right eye. Turning back to the tigers, he points at one I hadn’t noticed before. The large animal sits regally on top of a rock overseeing his pride. That’s our Cooper, the king of our hearts, protector of all things Salenger. He says, “That one because he has stripes like Cooper.”
I avoid looking at Cooper altogether because he’ll only make me cry. Struggling to keep my voice from shaking when my emotions take over, I take a deep breath and rub his back. “Hey buddy, I wanted to tell you something important.”
“What?” Reed looks at me and then at Cooper. He promptly sits on Cooper’s knee like its sole purpose is to be a seat for him.
Looking more at home than ever, I know this is it. Some might be sad, but I’m about to give him something that I used to wish I had. I say, “Cooper’s your dad.”
Reed stretches his arms over his shoulders and starts touching Cooper’s face. Cooper pretends to bite his fingers. Giggling, Reed says, “Okay.”
“Yes, it is okay, but I want you to really listen and understand.” With his eyes looking into mine, I smile. “You know how you grew like a weed in my belly?”
“Mmhm.”
I pause, realizing I don’t want to talk about how Cooper planted the seed. That’s a whole other conversation that I’ll leave for the professional. “Actually, don’t think about weeds. Think about blood. We share blood—”