Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 82132 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82132 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
“I finally taught Jay how to throw,” Carter says. “Watch this!” He punches a hand in his glove and focuses on the man across from him. “You ready, big guy?”
Jay gives me a look, making me giggle.
“Okay,” Carter says, holding up his glove. “Right here. You can do it. Step and throw.”
Jay barely tosses the ball, and it sails through the air and hits the middle of Carter’s glove. He doesn’t squeeze it fast enough, and the ball falls unceremoniously to the grass.
“Ugh. You’ll get it. Keep working on it,” Carter says.
Jay shrugs, holding his arms out to the sides.
“Yeah, Jay,” Dylan says. “Keep working on it, and one day, you might not suck.”
Jay turns his back to me. I can’t hear what he says to Dylan, but it gets a full belly laugh out of my older son.
It’s hard to believe that two months have passed since Jay showed back up on my porch. Carter and Dylan weren’t surprised to see Jay at the house that afternoon, leading me to believe that they plotted together to fix things.
God love them.
“Wanna see the derby car, Mom?” Dylan asks, getting to his feet.
I step outside into the bright evening sun and cross the yard. Jay hasn’t stayed at his house more than once or twice since our reunion. Whenever he tells the boys he must go after dinner, they give him hell until he agrees to stay.
I’m not complaining.
Jay reaches for me as I walk by. I stop, letting him pull me in for a kiss.
“They wanted this thing red,” Dylan says, motioning to the car. “I told them every derby car is red.”
“And I didn’t want to do the painting,” Jay says, walking with his arm around my waist.
“And I’m not a very good painter,” Carter says. He tucks himself under my other side. “So Dylan said he’d paint if I let him pick the color.”
Dylan looks at me and smiles.
Black and blue. Of course.
“It looks good, guys,” I say, checking out the car the three of them have been working on for two weeks. I’m not sure what a derby car is supposed to look like. But even if this is all wrong, my guys made it. It’s perfect. “You guys are a good team.”
Dylan and Jay exchange a grin. I think my heart might burst.
Carter bounces up and down like a pogo stick. “Jay . . .”
Dylan nods.
Jay smiles.
What’s going on here?
“Mom,” Dylan says, “I have to tell you something.”
“What?”
My curiosity is piqued—and not in a good way. I stare at Dylan, waiting for the ball to drop.
“I know we still fight sometimes, and I can still be a—”
“Jerk face,” Carter cuts in.
“Be nice,” I tell my youngest.
“Whatever,” he says.
Dylan laughs. “Dad would like this. And it makes me happy to see you so happy.”
“Aw,” I say. “That’s so sweet, Dylan.”
Carter shoves off me and stands by his brother. “And I want everyone to know I’m very happy. Like, very, very happy. I like watching movies with you guys, teaching Jay to play baseball.”
Jay sighs, making me grin.
“I like going for hot chocolate at Betty Lou’s with Jay in the morning before school,” Carter says. “I like when you tuck me in at night, Mom. I like when you cook us dinner and we all sit at the table. I like it when—”
“That’s enough,” Dylan says under his breath.
Carter covers his mouth with his hand. “Oops. Sorry. That’s all.”
Jay kisses the side of my head and then stands next to Carter.
The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, and butterflies take flight in my belly. My three guys all look at me with anticipation. What the heck is going on?
“I’ve already talked to the boys about this,” Jay says as the boys beam at his side. “I love you, Gabrielle. You gave me another chance at life. You welcomed me into your family, and—”
“And we want Jay to be a part of our family,” Carter says.
What? My heart thunders so hard in my chest that I think I might pass out.
Dylan looks at the sky. “We practiced this. How do you not remember when you’re supposed to go?”
“Because I’m a kid.” Carter throws up his hands, almost hitting his brother in the face. “I’m doing my best here, okay?”
Jay watches me, not a bit flustered by their antics. I might find them funny if I weren’t waiting for him to speak.
My hands start to shake as I anticipate what’s taking place. Surely I’m wrong. I don’t want to be wrong. But how am I not?
“Gabrielle Solomon,” Jay says, lowering himself to one knee.
I gasp, covering my mouth with my hands. Tears fill my eyes as I try to stay focused on this moment.
He pulls a small black box from his pocket and opens it. The diamond inside catches the sunlight.