Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 80889 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 404(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80889 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 404(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
I mean…I could really, probably use an extra pair of hands my very first day as a new dad. She didn’t offer at all.
But then again, I didn’t ask. In fact, the last time we spoke was shortly after midnight when she slipped out of my bedroom after we’d fucked.
I didn’t ask because I didn’t want to imply there was any more between us than what we’d already established. I think I was pretty clear to her that I didn’t have much to give and thus sex would just be sex. Thus, I really had no right to ask her to do anything further for me. I certainly can’t give into my desires and ask her over just because I’d like to see her for a bit.
Nope. No how. Not going to do it.
My cell phone, which is sitting beside me on the top porch step dings with an incoming text and I snatch it up. It’s from Pepper and my skin now prickles with excitement.
Take a deep breath. You’ve got this today.
Without thinking, I do exactly as she suggests and suck a lungful of air into me. I let it out slowly, and what do you know…I feel a marginal amount of tension seep out of me. I try another breath, and then another. After five deep ones, I feel a hell of a lot less anxious.
I text her back. Thanks. Some deep breathing actually worked.
She responds back almost immediately. Glad to help. Good luck.
I’m not an emoji expert and even if I was, I wouldn’t use them. Too fucking cutesie for me, so I merely type back. Thx.
There’s only a moment’s pause before I’m typing something else. I internally berate myself for my total lack of self-control as I text back, Want to come over?
This time, she doesn’t write back immediately, and I think I may have made things uncomfortable by asking her to come over and witness a new dad meet a strange baby for the first time. I need to somehow rescind that offer I just made, but I can’t think of a tactful way of doing it.
Luckily, it’s not needed when Pepper texts, I don’t want to step on your toes or get in the way of things. It’s a personal moment.
And fuck…she’s right. I don’t know Pepper at all. Ninety-five percent of our existence together consisted of me bitching about her yard and house, which included a formal complaint to our homeowner’s association. Of course, that was put on hold because I lost a bet to her but I don’t intend to pursue it again.
I know without a doubt I’d feel more confident if she were here. She’d step in and help if I falter after Louise leaves. But by inviting her over here, I’m personalizing this into some sort of relationship and that might be selfish of me. It makes me feel like I’m using her.
I continue in my hesitation, battling my inner demons about whether or not this is a good idea.
Then, Louise’s car pulls into the driveway and I feel a panic attack coming on. I type the fastest text of my life. Yes. Please come.
After hitting send and hearing the familiar whooping sound of an outgoing text, I stand up and put my phone in my pocket. My eyes go to Pepper’s house and my relief is great when I see her walking out the door and turning toward me. She looks amazing wearing a long peach skirt that skims her ankles and a gray sweater that hangs off one shoulder. Her smile is encouraging and the set of her shoulders portrays a confidence that this is going to all be okay.
I feel lighter the closer she comes and I turn my attention to Louise’s car. The social worker gets out and shoots me a smile. “Ready to become a dad?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be.” This is not a true statement. I’d be better prepared mentally if this had occurred a few years from now and preferably with a wife, but I can’t bemoan that now. This is as good as it gets.
Pepper walks in front of Louise’s car, catching her attention. Louise also gives her a bright smile as she closes her driver’s door. “Hello. Nice to see you again.”
That earns her a sweet smile from Pepper who then turns to me, and gives me a laughably light punch to my upper arm. “Ready to do this, Daddy?”
I could make a dozen lewd jokes about Pepper calling me “daddy” but instead all I can think is that I hope Charlie calls me “daddy” and not “dad” which sounds too old-fashioned for a twenty-seven-year-old man.
“Ready,” I tell her and then my heart seems to leap upward, catching in my throat when Louise goes to the back door to get my daughter.