Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 77398 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77398 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
I wanted to see him.
Talk to him.
Get to know him some more.
Not only as the father of the kids I loved, but also as the man who’d held me captive since day one.
I sighed, hating the sentiment wreaking mayhem in my world.
“You’re the kids’ nanny, Camila. Just the kid’s nanny,” I told myself as I headed down the hallway to the sassy pants’ nursery.
Who was singing a song, “Ma, ma, ma, ma, ma, ma, da, da, da, da, ma, da, ma, ma, da…”
I rounded the corner and found her bouncing up and down. Hanging onto the railing and shaking her booty to the beat of her own tune.
“Ma!” she excitingly exclaimed, her face lighting up when she saw me. “Ma! Ma! Ma!”
I chuckled, I couldn’t help it. She was a breath of fresh air in the morning with her beaming expression for me.
It was contagious.
“Baby girl, my name is Ca-mi-la,” I accentuated, picking her up. Blowing raspberries onto her chubby neck.
She squirmed, throwing back her head. “Ma!” she giggled, proud of herself for repeating one part of my name.
“What am I going to do with you, Journey?”
“A ba da be, Ma,” she replied, smiling that toothy grin that reminded me so much of her brother Jackson.
“Are you hungry?”
She wobbled her head around and I understood it as a yes.
“Okay.” I kissed her cheek before grabbing the bottle on top of her book shelf, finding it warm.
“Did someone already feed you?” I asked her.
She smiled with a gleam in her eyes similar to when someone was holding back a secret.
“Was it Jackson or Jagger? No, they aren’t home from their friends’ yet.” I arched an eyebrow. “Your daddy?”
“Da!” she shouted, repeating the only other word she could say that held meaning to her.
“Are you tricking me? I think you’re tricking me. Or maybe he fed you before he went to the hospital?”
She mindlessly blinked, considering what I was saying.
“Little Miss, how are you so smart?”
I shook my head, smirking. She was the smartest baby in all the world, I was sure of it. Carrying her into the kitchen, I buckled her into her high chair.
“Ma!” she yelled, pounding her fists on the tray. Like she was telling me to turn on the music while I made breakfast.
“Alright! Patience, Daniel Son.”
I rolled her chair toward the archway in the kitchen that connected to the foyer, so I could still see her from the living room where the stereo was.
I was hooking-up the Bluetooth on my new phone when the boys came barreling through the front door, throwing their shit everywhere.
“Oh no!” I reprimanded with a finger out in front of me. “You either take that stuff to your rooms and put it away, or you toss it in your designated hamper in the laundry room. I am not picking up after you all week while you’re on spring break!”
“Ah, Mary Poppins, but that’s your job.”
I glared at Jackson, giving him a stern look that meant business.
“Whatever.” He rolled his eyes. “Pick up your shit, Jagger, or she won’t stop talking and you know how annoying that is.”
It was my turn to roll my eyes, walking back into the kitchen.
Little shit.
“Do you see how much of a pain in the butt your brother is?” I spoke to Journey. “Don’t be like him.”
She nodded, playfully.
“Boy’s drool and girl’s rule. Remember that too.”
I pressed play on Journey’s playlist from my cell phone and “Baby Shark” by Pinkfong blasted through the speakers. She went crazy. She always did when she heard this song.
I sang, bouncing up and down with her, mimicking a shark chomping with my hands like I saw on YouTube. She clapped her hands and kicked her feet watching me make a fool out of myself for her.
“Ah shit, I hate this song!” Jackson chimed in, shouting over the music. “Now it’s going to be stuck in my head all damn day!”
I grabbed Jagger’s hand, making him spin me before reaching for Jackson’s to do the same.
“You secretly love it and you know it! Come on! Let me see your moves, boy!”
I busted out in full dance mode, swaying my hips side to side. Shimmying my shoulders, and Journey followed my every move from her high chair, kicking her little legs even more.
“We can’t have a nine-month-old baby with more rhythm than you do!”
They chuckled and reluctantly gave in, turning our morning into a dance party in the kitchen. All of us falling victim to the addicting song, doing the dance that went along with it. I turned around and to my surprise Jackson and Jagger joined in doing the same.
We shook our asses for Little Miss and when we spun back to face her because the song was coming to an end. I loudly gasped, taken back. Stunned by what my eyes were seeing.