Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 65480 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 327(@200wpm)___ 262(@250wpm)___ 218(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65480 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 327(@200wpm)___ 262(@250wpm)___ 218(@300wpm)
Clarke strips the ring from her finger and throws it at Will’s chest. “You’re such a jerk. I’m not gonna be the Juliet to your Romeo.” I laugh at her play on my brother’s nickname and watch in awe as she spins on her heel in an attempt to leave the room.
Will grabs her by the wrist and pins her in place, coming up from behind her to whisper something I can’t hear from this distance. Whatever he said to her softens her resolve. She leans back against his chest, allowing him to wrap his arm around her.
What is it with them? One minute they hate each other, and then the next they’re clawing at each other, unable to keep their hands to themselves.
“We’ll be back,” Will says to us over his shoulder. “We have a few things to work out.”
“I’m sure you do,” I deadpan as they exit the room.
I spin around to look at Ethan, my mouth still open in surprise. “Can you believe this? They have to get this marriage annulled.”
Ethan shrugs. “I wouldn’t worry about it.”
“How did my idiot brother end up getting married before me?” I grunt in frustration, and Ethan chuckles.
“Are you really mad that Will got married first? It’s not like it will last more than the time it takes them to get it annulled.”
“I hope so,” I mutter.
Ethan hugs me so hard the sheet drops to the floor. His eyes roam over my naked body, and in response, I get an approving wink and a crooked grin from my soon-to-be-husband. He runs his hand over my breasts and down to my stomach.
“I have a feeling,” he says. “Pretty soon we’ll have a family. I just know it.”
I smile up at him in response.
Epilogue
Three years later
We stroll past a long row of headstones, a cold breeze blowing through the cemetery. It’s taken me far too long to visit my brother and father in Boston, where my mother had them laid to rest. I wanted my son to meet the person he’s named after. Mia found out she was pregnant with Erik a few days before our wedding. She swears she conceived him in Las Vegas on the night of my bachelor party.
Erik jumps up and down, his chubby little cheeks puffed out. He latches onto me and yells, “Swing, swing, swing.”
He loves when Mia and I swing him in the air. It’s kind of funny considering I met his mother on the old swing set in her parents’ backyard. I fell in love with her in the most unusual of places.
“Hold Mommy’s hand,” Mia says to our almost three-year-old son, who we named after my twin brother.
He slips his tiny fingers between hers and then latches on to me. “I want to fly, Daddy,” he says in his baby voice that makes my heart melt. “Make me fly.”
“You got it, buddy.”
We lift him off the ground at the same time. Mia laughs, her smile so wide it reaches up to her clear blue eyes. I love this woman and my children more than anything in this world. And I have them because of the darkest parts of my life.
My brother’s death had set into motion a chain of events that I never thought would lead me to this point. Years ago, I thought I would be dead by now. Part of me wanted—no needed—to be with my brother again. My depression and guilt over Erik’s death, mixed with my drug habit, should’ve killed me. But it didn’t because Mia, my little lamb, was there to save me. She was always the light to my darkness, the good to my bad. To this day, she still saves me from myself. She keeps me grounded and makes me whole.
Maintaining a strong grip on Erik, we rock him back and forth, all the way through the cemetery until we reach my brother and father’s graves which are next to each other. My mom hovers over their headstones with her hands stuffed into her jacket pockets. She has her back to us, but once she hears our footsteps, she spins around.
“Grams,” Erik screams. “Look, Grams, I’m flying.”
Her cheeks redden from the smile stretching across her withered face. She looks so much older than the last time I saw her. I’m hoping she will finally consider my offer for her to live with us. I’ve asked her at least a hundred times, and I still get the same answer every time. She’s never ready to leave my brother and father, and I fear she never will be. I hate seeing her alone and with no one to talk to other than the staff who live inside my childhood home with her.
The second we set Erik on the ground, he runs into my mom’s arms.
“Hey, baby.” She hugs Erik and kisses him on the cheek and forehead, holding on to him for dear life. “I missed you.”