Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 83020 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83020 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
I climb out, but he exits the vehicle as well. I head to his side of the vehicle, taking Aria when he offers to place her in my arms.
“Let’s get something in your tummy,” I tell her as I walk away. “Then your medicine and a nap.”
I pull my house keys out of the front pocket of my jeans with her cradled against my chest, refusing to look back as I enter the house. The man needs privacy, and I intend to give it to him.
I make a quick bottle before carrying Aria and her meds into the nursery. Not very excited, her poor little bottom lip quivers when I strap her into the vibrating chair in the corner so I have both arms free to get clean sheets on her crib mattress.
Deciding she was wrong about eating, Aria lifts the bottle to her lips and begins to suck. Her breathing has changed some since this morning, her nose stuffier as she tries her normal way of breathing before she realizes it’s nearly impossible. She pulls the bottle from her mouth as I grab a clean sheet from her dresser and work quickly to make the bed before she starts to melt down.
I grab one of her stuffed animals, having no clue if it’s one she’ll like, and find her sleeping when I turn back around.
“Crap,” I mutter, hoping when I give her the medicine that was prescribed that she doesn’t wake up.
She managed to get half her bottle in, and I know from working with her at the daycare that she has no qualms about letting you know when she’s hungry. I set the bottle to the side and ready the syringe for the antibiotics, pausing for a minute when I hear the SUV start up outside. I frown as I peek through the curtains to see Harley backing out of the driveway and pulling away from the house.
Aria is conked out, and doesn’t budge when I have to crack her tired little eyes open to administer the drops. She jerks a little when I push the syringe in her mouth, but her tiny pucker works to swallow it down without too much of a fuss.
She stays asleep when I pull her from the vibrating chair and place her on the bed. I power up the baby monitor from her dresser, and leave the room.
Knowing Harley wouldn’t just leave me alone with Aria without letting me know where he was going, I pull my phone from my back pocket, frowning when I see the blank screen. Maybe I was wrong, or maybe he doesn’t have my number. I doubt all the people who work for Cerberus were given my information like I was theirs.
I pull up his contact, having put it in my phone days after I put in the initial list.
Me: I’ve given Aria a bottle and her first dose of medicine. She’s already asleep.
I end the text with a smiling emoji, feeling like a fool after and wishing I could take that last part back. The man took off because he couldn’t imagine coming into this house, and I’m sending emojis.
I breathe out a long sigh after staring down at the phone for long minutes without getting a response back.
If he’s not going to come back, I wish he’d let me know so I can reach out to Boomer and see if he’s available to stay.
The house is spotless because I’m always at the clubhouse, but I’ve never been a messy person anyway.
I pace around the house, having that same restless energy I always get when I’m alone. I’m not technically alone, but a sick baby under the age of one isn’t exactly the best conversationalist.
My eyes land on the couch, wanting Boomer there even more. We sat and watched television yesterday evening and it wasn’t uncomfortable for a single second. But I know I can’t keep leaning on him and taking advantage of his kindness. I want the man to smile when I text or call, not wonder how long he’s going to be obligated to spend time with me.
He has suggested more than once that we make a daily outing together, suggesting the bookstore, the park, and maybe another crowded place like the movie theater, but I answered that last one with a big hell no. I don’t know that I’ll ever be ready for being in near total darkness with strangers, something that never bothered me until that fateful night at college. I reach for my phone, planning to offer a trip to one of the calmer places, but see the phone sitting beside the baby monitor, an easy reminder that I have responsibilities here.
I head down the hall to my room, the sight of Harley’s closed bedroom door making me strike up a plan.