Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 83932 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83932 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
“I’m glad.”
“I like the boys too. They’re adorable.”
“They are.” He nods, turning me in his lap to straddle him.
“I’m going to see if Hope wants to go to the zoo with us tomorrow.”
“That would be nice,” he agrees absently as one of his hands slides up my back under my sweater then around, cupping my breast. “Are you ready for bed?”
I press my chest into his while wrapping my arms around the back of his neck. “Yes.” I nip his ear, and he stands, keeping me against him with his hands under my ass. Twining my legs around his waist, I let him carry me into the house and up to bed, where we do not go to sleep until much later.
“That’s our point, not yours,” I hear a little boy’s voice shout through my sleep-fogged brain, and my eyes blink open.
“No, it’s our point,” is rumbled back, and I roll my head to the side, finding Dillon gone and the bed cold.
Scooting across the cool sheets, I look at the clock on the bedside table and groan when I see it’s just five after seven. I want to go back to sleep, but know I won’t be able to now that I’m awake. Throwing my legs over the side, I stand, stretching my arms over my head as I walk across the room toward the closet. As soon as I open the door, I blink in confusion. The clothes that were in my suitcases are now scattered across the floor. Shaking my head, I wonder why Dillon couldn’t just tell me to unpack. “This is Dillon we’re talking about,” I mutter to myself as I go about hanging stuff up and shoving some into drawers.
After finally putting away the last piece of clothing, I grab the jeans and shirt I picked out to wear and head for the bathroom. Tying my hair into a bun on top of my head, I turn on the shower and hop in, making quick work of getting cleaned up since cleaning the closet took over an hour. I know the boys will want to get to the zoo early, and I still need to call Ellie to see about Hope coming along with us.
Once I’m showered and dressed, I put on some mascara and bronzer then grab my cell phone and leave the room, feeling my heart melt as I head down the steps. Taking a seat at the bottom of the stairs, I watch the boys, including Parker and Dillon, play hockey across the marble floors using brooms and mops as hockey sticks and a wadded up piece of paper as a puck.
“We win, you lose!” Jordan yells, giving Kenyon a high-five when he scores a point in the imaginary goal.
“I call a rematch.” Dillon smiles, picking up a laughing Jordan under one arm and a giggling Kenyon under his other, before spinning them in circles, making their laughter echo through the foyer.
“Morning,” Parker says, and I smile as he takes a seat next to me on the step.
“Morning.” I nudge my shoulder with his, listening to the boys giggle and yell for Dillon to go faster.
“When are you guys going to take the dive into parenthood?” he asks, and I feel my face soften when Dillon’s smiling eyes come to me.
“I don’t know,” I say honestly, staring into Dillon’s eyes. Seeing him with his nephews makes me want to see him with our kids. I have no doubt he will be an amazing dad. “Maybe a few years. We’re still trying to get to know each other, and as you know, we didn’t start out like most married couples.”
“Do you love him?” he asks softly, and I pull my eyes from Dillon and the boys to look at him before I answer.
“Yes.”
“That’s all that matters. The rest will fall into place with time.”
“I guess you’re right.”
“I’m always right.” He grins, and I roll my eyes, seeing he’s just as cocky as his brother.
“You sound just like Dillon.”
“Dillon sounds just like me. I’m older.” He smiles then looks at the door when the bell rings. Dropping the boys to their feet, Dillon pulls it open, and as soon as I see who is waiting there, I feel my temper flare. Then I hear Parker mutter, “You’ve got to be shitting me.” I’m staring at Isla who is standing on the front porch.
“Dillon, please.” She holds up her hand when it looks like he’s about to shut the door in her face, and he shakes his head then looks over his shoulder at us.
Standing, I start down the last two steps, but then drop my eyes to my wrist when Parker takes hold of it, stopping me. “Boys, go hang with your mom,” he orders, and the boys look at him and frown, probably confused by his change in demeanor. “Now,” he urges, and they take off toward the kitchen.