Total pages in book: 150
Estimated words: 136791 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 684(@200wpm)___ 547(@250wpm)___ 456(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136791 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 684(@200wpm)___ 547(@250wpm)___ 456(@300wpm)
"Mama?" he asks, wiggling this way and that as I pull a shirt over his head.
"Let me get you dressed; then you can see, Mommy," I negotiate, trying to fight one arm into the hole, only to have him slide it right back out. It takes a good five minutes to get it on him the right way, finally.
He narrows his little eyes at me and huffs loudly when I finally do.
"You definitely get that shit from your mom," I say with a chuckle. She's always glaring at me and huffing when I piss her off, which I still do a lot because I'm me. What? It's part of my charm. She always forgives me, though. Usually because I give her orgasms until she forgets why she was mad at me. It's working out great for me.
"Shit."
"Fuck. Don't say that, TJ. Your mom will kick my ass. Jesus." I tip my head back and take a deep breath before I teach him every curse word in the book in one sitting. I keep forgetting he's learning how to talk by repeating whatever he hears. January's going to kill me if he starts screaming all these new words across his daycare…which he probably will do because he's my kid, and I can't stop cursing to save my life. I tried. Ended up putting ninety dollars in the damn swear jar in one day. That whole experiment ended pretty quickly after that.
I swear, this kid looks just like his mom and acts just like me. I fucking love it.
When we first found out January was pregnant, I was terrified out of my mind that I'd be a terrible father. It's not exactly like I had any strong male role models in my life growing up, and I spend most of my time around gangbangers and criminals. But the first time I held him in my arms, I knew I'd do anything for him.
Turns out, I'm not as bad at parenting as I thought I'd be. At least, I think I'm doing an okay job at it. He seems to like me most of the time. When I think I'm fucking it up, I just ask myself what January would do. That seems to do the trick most of the time. I've only had to call Tristan and Roman a couple of times for advice. They usually laugh at me, so I hang up on them and figure it out myself.
My friends are assholes.
Life is pretty fucking great.
"Here's the deal, dude," I tell TJ, sliding a pair of pants up his legs and then standing him up to pull them up over his diaper. "If you keep your clothes on today, I'll buy you ice cream."
"Cade," January laughs from behind me. "Are you seriously trying to bribe him?"
"Mama!" TJ shouts and starts bouncing up and down and clapping his hands.
"Fuck, I love when he does that," I say, grinning from ear to ear. "You used to do the same shit when you were excited about something, baby girl. It's cute as hell."
"Hell!" TJ yells, reaching for January. "Shit!"
"Fu-frick my life," I growl, shaking my head. "You're supposed to be on my side, little dude. Stop snitching."
January steps up beside me and swats me on the arm, laughing. As soon as I catch sight of her, my dick turns to steel in my slacks. She's wearing a blue dress that flows around her body as she moves. Her hair is loose around her. She's too damn perfect.
"You're a cop, Cade. You can't tell your son not to snitch," she tells me. "Hi, sweet boy." She holds her arms out for TJ, who practically catapults into them. Naturally, as soon as she wraps them around him, he snuggles in and gets still.
I don't blame him for that shit. Being in her arms is my favorite place, too. Still…where was that stillness five minutes ago when I had to practically hold him down to get a shirt on him? He's definitely my kid. He's all about his mama. I'm all about his mama, too.
She's grown so damn beautiful since having TJ. Most of the time, she's so fucking happy it takes my breath away. She glows all the time like she did when we were little, only it goes deeper than simply happiness now. It's like the inner peace and strength she found pours out of her. You can see it in her eyes and in the way she carries herself. She's so goddamn perfect.
Wrapping an arm around her waist, I tug her closer and press my lips to her forehead.
She sighs happily, resting her head on my arm.
I love moments like this when I've got her and TJ in my arms, and they're both safe and happy. It's the future I always wanted for myself—the one I thought I'd lost a long damn time ago. It's even more perfect than I ever thought it could be.