Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 131821 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131821 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
When I pull back, I realize I’m half in his lap, and his hand is running up and down my spine.
I chew my lip, and Mason leans forward.
My lips part, but Mason reaches past me, handing me my mug.
“Here you go,” he rasps, tucking it into my hands.
I take it and face the water, but I don’t move from his lap, and he doesn’t ask me to.
We sit there in the early morning, enjoying each other’s company in complete and utter silence.
It’s the most relaxed I’ve felt in weeks.
But there’s something about Mason that soothes me, isn’t there?
Something that’s always there beneath my skin, hovering. Heating. Reminding me of the man who’s had my back when he didn’t have to.
“I’m happy you’re here,” I admit.
His lips slide along my temple, and he whispers so low, I’m not so sure he intended for me to hear. “Where you are is where I want to be.”
I close my eyes at the thought, basking in the warmth his words bring.
It’s going to be a good week.
“Come on, come on. It starts in five minutes.” I drag Mason by the wrist, literally, and he chuckles all the way, Deaton strapped to his chest in the little carrier he demanded I let him buy on the drive out here.
“You know, for a girl with face paint on, you’re kind of bossy.”
“Because a unicorn horn and glittery rainbow cheeks deem me a sweetheart.” I laugh. “If I miss this, you’re gonna get it.”
“Kind of tempted to make us miss it just to see what that means.”
I don’t have to look back to see if he’s smirking. I know he is.
“Keep it up, Johnson, and I’ll steal all your blankets tonight.”
The chuckle that leaves him is dark, and I don’t dare peek his way, realizing it was not the right thing to say and well aware my chest is on fire right now.
We make it to the gate with two minutes to spare, only for me to learn the lightning passes come with a grace period in case you are, in fact, late. Oh well, I wasn’t about to risk it.
We’re pretty much at the front of the line and stepping into the large bucket-like contraptions faster than I expected.
Mason chuckles suddenly, a soft and airy sound, and I look over to find him staring.
“What?”
His lips are curved to one side, and he shakes his head. “I like how excited you are for this ride, as if there isn’t a Ferris wheel in Oceanside you can go ride anytime you want.”
“Oh, Superstar, you haven’t put it together yet?” I grin, unclipping my travel case and pulling out my camera, pointing my finger at the sky before us.
Mason looks out, and slowly, the other side of his mouth lifts. “Well, hot damn.”
I nod. “We’ll have the best view of the sunset, and if I timed it right yesterday, on our second round up, we’ll be at the very tip-top, but it’s not only that.” I turn and tip my head over my shoulder. “Look.”
“Man.” He nods, eyes roaming over both of the parks in view, the lights from the rides starting to glow brighter with the movement of the sun. “You really do have the eye of an artist.”
I smile behind my lens, snapping a few images of the park from up high, my eyes flicking to the sky every few moments just in case. As predicted, the sun is nearly halfway disappeared just as we hit the very top and the cart pauses for the change in riders below.
I click and click and click, smiling at the sight. Just as I go to lower my camera to my lap, I hear Mason sigh. It’s a long, gentle sound, and when I look over, my stomach flutters, a silky shuddering that melts my muscles.
My son is asleep, still cradled in the carrier strapped to Mason’s chest. Mason’s lips are settled at his hairline, resting there adoringly, his palm pressed to the curve of his bottom as he stares silently out at the pinks and blues in the distance.
It’s a beautiful sight, a hundred times better than the setting sun I was so desperate to see and one I know I want to hold on to, so I shift my camera to capture it. The moment it clicks, there’s a matching sensation that takes place behind my ribs, a soft, shadowy shudder I can’t quite put my finger on, but warmth washes over me, and I smile at the two, camera clutched tight between my hands.
I’ll look back on this moment with the fondest of memories.
A man and a little boy.
A father-and-son moment any mother would love the opportunity to catch. And me—I’m glad I have someone in my life who holds my son with the same thread of care as I do.