Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 71198 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 356(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71198 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 356(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
“Is everything okay?” I ask when he gets in behind the wheel, and he turns to me with a smile on his face.
“She was just making sure I understood how important it is that you and Sam get back here in one piece.” He puts on his seat belt, then starts the engine.
“What part of you did she threaten to cut off if that didn’t happen?” I ask, and he grimaces. “If it makes you feel any better”—I pat his thigh—“she hates blood and would probably throw up and pass out before causing any real harm.”
“Good to know,” he mutters, making me laugh as he pulls away from my parents’ house.
With Sam finally asleep, I carry him over to the travel crib set up in my room and carefully lay him down, then pat his bottom when he rolls to his stomach. Once I know he’s fully back to sleep, I place his blanket over him, then grab the baby monitor and a sweater before I head for the sliding door that leads to the deck outside my room.
When we arrived earlier today at Blake’s family’s house, while Margret, Janet, and I were making a shopping list, I learned that Janet and Dave both designed the house not long after they got married, before Janet gave birth to Blake and Margret, while Dave was working as an architect. They thought at the time that it would be the home they would raise their kids in. They had no idea Dave’s business would expand and grow, and they would eventually move. Even now, you can feel how much love was put into the house and that they wanted it to feel like a place you’d want to come home to. Heck, I would want to live here now.
When I get outside, I walk past Blake’s room, next to mine, and find it dark inside, which means he’s probably still in the kitchen with his mom. His dad went to lie down not long after dinner, and Margret went to put Taylor to bed around the same time I put Sam to sleep.
I go to the large double doors off the kitchen and peek inside, seeing Blake, his mom, and his sister sitting in the kitchen, talking. I decide to give them some time alone. I know Janet and Margret might not be aware of Dave’s diagnosis, but that doesn’t mean they don’t know something is going on with him. You can see it when they look at him and feel it in the air when he’s around. They’re worried, and not knowing is probably making it worse.
Honestly, I’m worried that when the truth does come out, it’s going to be difficult for Margret and Janet to understand why Dave didn’t want to tell them the truth, and they might end up resenting him. With a sigh, I set Sam’s monitor down on one of the tables near the firepit and take a seat.
I prop my feet up on the edge of the deck and watch the sky turn cotton candy pink, blue, and purple over the lake as I wrap my sweater around me. One thing for sure is it’s beautiful out here, especially with the way the house is built near the edge of a rocky cliff, making it seem from up here like you’re floating on top of the water.
“Do you want me to start a fire?” Blake asks behind me, and I meet his gaze over my shoulder.
“If you want.” I watch him get closer, and my belly warms from the look of contentment on his face. It’s good to see him relaxed and happy.
“Fire it is.” He bends to kiss me, then pulls back just an inch. “Sam get to sleep okay?”
“Yeah, he’s normally really good about going to sleep, and he had a big day, so he was tired.”
“Good.” He kisses me once more, then stands and heads across the deck. He flips a switch on the wall before coming back to the firepit and opening a door on it, where he does something I can’t see. But a second later, flames burst to life. “Mom and Margret are downstairs watching a movie. They didn’t even ask if we wanted to join them,” he says, taking a seat next to me.
“That was rude,” I mumble, and he grins while placing my legs over his.
“Right? I thought so too.”
Relaxing against him, I rest my head on his shoulder and my arm across his waist. “I think I really might move here.”
“Am I invited?”
“I don’t know. What can you bring to the table?”
“Not much,” he says quietly, and my chest feels funny, because I feel like he thinks that’s true.
“You’re handsome.”
“Looks fade,” he replies easily, smoothing his hand up and down my arm.
“You can cook,” I try again.
“So can a lot of people.”