Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 88841 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 444(@200wpm)___ 355(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88841 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 444(@200wpm)___ 355(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
Friends.
Fuck that shit. I have enough friends. I want more with Kira, and I could’ve read her wrong, but based on the disappointed look she gave me when I agreed that we were friends, I’d say she wants more as well. Now, I just need to figure out how to get her on the same page.
“Thank you for today,” Kira says when I pull into the garage.
“You don’t have to thank me. But I’m glad everyone had a good day.”
I look back at our daughters sleeping soundly in the back seat. They ate, swam, and played the day away. I doubt anything will wake them up until tomorrow morning.
“Good night,” Kira says once we’re inside and about to head in opposite directions, both of us carrying our daughters to bed.
“Sweet dreams,” I say back, hoping she doesn’t have any nightmares even though I selfishly enjoy spending time with her when she comes down after having one. My hope is that, one day, she’ll come down on her own and not just because she can’t sleep.
As I’m putting Addie to bed, I get an alert on my phone from my calendar letting me know that tomorrow is Mother’s Day. Because of my mom not being in my life, and Nora walking away, I haven’t had a reason to pay attention to this holiday, but now I do.
“Hey, you’re still awake?”
I glance up from my laptop I was working on and take in Kira’s sleepy appearance. Her eyes are half lidded, and her hair is up in her signature messy knot. She’s wearing a pair of blue-and-white striped pajama shorts and a thin tank top. She looks sexy without even trying.
“Nightmare?” I ask as she scurries over to where I’m sitting, grabs the blanket from the back, and snuggles up on the couch next to me so she’s close, but not touching me.
“Actually,” she says, shyly looking up at me through her lashes, “I had some stuff on my mind, and I wanted to talk to you.”
“Okay.” I turn so I’m giving her my full attention. “What’s up?”
“Earlier, when you thought you saw Nora, I couldn’t tell if you were upset that you saw her or if you were upset because you miss her. I know it’s not really my business but—”
“I hate her,” I say, not needing her to finish her thought. “I know I shouldn’t because she means nothing to me. When I told you I never loved her, I meant it. She was someone I was dating, and then she got pregnant, and it all spiraled.
“I tried like hell to convince myself to feel something for her, anything, but I couldn’t. But the day she walked out on Addie for five million dollars, I finally felt something for her … hate. Hate for creating a child she never wanted, just to trap me. Hate for abandoning a baby who will one day wonder where her mother is. Hate because she chose money over the person I love the most in the world.”
I release a harsh breath and then continue, “This morning, when I thought I saw her, I was pissed because she’d agreed to disappear, and I thought maybe she wasn’t holding up her end of the deal. If it wasn’t for Addie, I wouldn’t give a shit where she lives, but the idea of Addie one day running into her makes me feel sick.
“Right now, she’s too young to understand, but just like you, one day, I’m going to have to explain to my little girl that her egg donor didn’t want her. And the only way to protect her is to make sure she never has to see her unless she chooses to.”
Kira nods and edges closer, taking my hand in hers. “You’re such a good dad,” she says softly. “Addie is so blessed to have you, and … I know you’re not Violet’s dad or anything, but I’m glad while we’re living here, my daughter can see what a good man and father looks like.”
“Thank you,” I say, refusing to focus on the part where she mentioned while we’re living here because if I have it my way, she and Violet will never move out.
“Can you read to me?” she asks, thankfully changing the subject.
As much as I don’t mind talking about anything with her, the topic of Nora tends to ruin my mood.
“Of course.” I pull out the book I’ve been reading to her and turn to the page I left off on.
I read for several minutes with her snuggled into my side. She laughs at the funny parts and sniffles when it gets emotional.
“I want a love like this,” she says when the hero confesses his love for the heroine.
Since I’m at the end of a chapter, I bookmark the page and close the book. When she lifts her head off my shoulder, I glance down at her, my eyes tracing her beautiful features—her button nose and the smatter of freckles that goes across the bridge of it and the tops of her cheeks. Her lips are naturally plump and pink, and I often wonder what it would feel like to run my tongue along the seam of them and then suck her bottom lip into my mouth. Would it feel as pillowy soft as it looks?