Meant for Gabriel (Meant For #4) Read Online Natasha Madison

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Insta-Love, Sports Tags Authors: Series: Meant For Series by Natasha Madison
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Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 95295 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
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“She’ll be mine last,” I declare, struggling with the fact I don’t even know what the fuck this relationship is called at this point.

“The throwdown,” Matty jokes, and we all laugh, but Viktor lets her go, and she comes over to me.

“A girl and a boy,” I tell her. “It really is a⁠—”

She puts her fingers on my lips to stop me from saying it. “It’s a surprise.”

“It’s a surprise,” I mumble from behind her fingers.

“I’m going to have another brother and a sister,” Colson cheers from beside us. Zara lets me go so she can hug him and pull him to us.

“The best big brother.” She leans down and kisses his head.

Everyone walks away from us even Colson, who runs up to Viktor and asks him about skating. He puts his arm around him and tells him that he has to come and visit him so he can take him to a game.

“Can you believe it?” I stand with her in my arms, not ready to let her go. Never wanting to let her go.

“I can’t.” She looks up at me. “I thought for sure when I saw the blue hat, we were having two boys,” she admits, “but when I saw the pink.” Her smile gets even bigger. “I don’t think I could have been happier. I thought I was going to fall to my knees.”

“Sweetheart,” I remind her softly, kissing her lips, “when are you going to learn that I’m never, ever going to let you fall.” I kiss her again. “I will always catch you.”

She raises her hand up to my chin. “I’m starting to get that, Cowboy.” She smiles, and there in the middle of I don’t even know how many people, it’s just me and her. Just the two of us and the words I love you lingering on my tongue.

33

ZARA

I turn from my side toward the door and flip the white cover off myself and slip my feet out and into my plush pink slippers by the bed.

The silence from outside is not so silent anymore when I hear a car horn go off. The blaring is what woke me up about ten minutes ago, and it’s still going on. Even when I walk down the steps toward the kitchen, all I hear is that fucking car alarm going off over and over again. “How has no one heard that?” I ask myself as I take orange juice out of the fridge. I shake the plastic bottle and unscrew the top, drinking straight from the bottle. I’m aggravated this is even an option and pissed that I’ve come home and again nothing has been said.

My phone rings from upstairs and I think about running to it, but I drink another sip of orange juice instead. I walk over to the bread box, grabbing a bagel and slipping one in the toaster before walking to the fridge to get some cream cheese. “Let’s see if this is going to go over well today.” I look down at my belly. “It’s fifty-fifty these days.” I can love one thing one day and then the next day not so much. Or maybe I just want to eat toasties in the morning and am too lazy to make them.

The phone rings again from upstairs at the same time the toaster pops the bagel up. I grab a plate and go through with smearing the cream cheese on it. Sitting on the stool after taking a bite of it, I wait until I swallow it to decide how I feel about it. “It’s not horrible,” I tell the emptiness of the kitchen, “not great either.” I take a sip of the orange juice. I finish the whole bagel , and when I walk upstairs, I carry the bottle of orange juice with me.

I put it down on the bedside table beside the phone and see the two calls have been from Gabriel, also with a text message.

Gabriel: Morning, Sweetheart, no picture this morning.

“No,” I tell the phone as I make the bed. “There is no picture this morning,” I mumble. “You want a picture, come and get it.”

I’ve been home for three days, and in the past three days, I’ve been getting miserable and more miserable. I’m just tired of being here alone and tired that he’s doing nothing about it. Nor is he saying anything about it, but neither am I, so I’m pissed off at myself as well. With the hormones from the babies and then myself, I’ve been not that friendly of a person these past couple of days, and I know he feels it.

I pick up my phone and instead of telling him good morning, I stand in front of the mirror, pull my shirt up to show him my stomach, and then send him the picture. “There, done.” I put the phone down before changing out of my clothes and putting on a pair of tights but then feeling like they are suffocating me. So I rip them off, grabbing one of the sweater dresses that have been my go-to, especially since it feels like I double in size every day. The phone rings at the same time I slip on a pair of heels. Walking over, I see it’s Gabriel, which annoys me, and I know I shouldn’t answer but I do. “Hello.” I put the phone to my ear as I walk out and into my office to grab my stuff.


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