Yours Cruelly (Paper Cuts #2) Read Online Winter Renshaw

Categories Genre: Contemporary, Drama Tags Authors: Series: Paper Cuts Series by Winter Renshaw
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Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 98485 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
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She leans in, a little dreamy look in her eye. “And to think, if I hadn’t put that message in the app, you never would’ve gotten together with that particular surprise. I’m the one responsible for bringing you two together!”

“We lived next door to one another,” I remind her. “Not just now, but almost all our li—”

“Hey,” she says, silencing me by slicing her hand through the air. “Be a good girl and let me call this a win.”

She’s right. Because if it weren’t for her, I might have gone right on hating him. And now, I don’t think it’s possible to love anyone more.

40

Alec

“I think this one might be my favorite book of all.”

Stassi is sitting in her rocking chair, hugging Wuthering Heights to her chest and watching as I put the finishing touches on the Goodnight Moon-themed mural in the nursery. Standing, barefoot in nothing but jeans, I grasp the brush between my teeth and check out my handiwork.

Finally, it’s fall. I was never an artist, but this wall was bare, and I thought, why the hell not?

“I hated that book in high school,” I mutter. “That Mrs. Havisham? With the wedding cake?”

“Heathcliff and Catherine. It’s really romantic,” she sighs. “Admit it. Besides, you’ve been known to hate on things you really love.”

I grin over at her. “Right. Let me check.” I pretend to think. “Nope. That one, I really hate.”

She grabs a stuffed animal and tosses it at me. “Don’t forget to add the bowlful of mush.”

“On it.” I stand back from my artistic endeavor and take a better look. It’s not bad. And it should be dry by the time the crib and changing table get here. Once they’re done and we add a few more touches, we’ll be ready to rock.

And have this baby.

“Holy shit, in a couple of months, I’m going to be a dad,” I mumble.

“Language,” she warns gently.

“Sorry. But … aren’t you … just awed by that? That in a few days’ time, our lives are going to change completely?”

She nods as I go over to her. “I’ve had a long time to think about that, since every day, my body seems to change completely.”

“Yeah. I guess. I mean … you already seem like a mother. But me? A father?”

I have a momentary flash of my dad, locking me up in my bedroom until I finished studying for my AP Bio test. Hooking me up with various SAT tutors that promised perfect scores, which I finally wound up achieving after taking it six times. That heart-stopping fear I’d have every time I brought home a test that wasn’t a perfect 100.

She stands and trails a finger down my bare chest, then puts her arms around me. “You’re not him.”

Funny how she can know exactly what I’m thinking without having to say a word. My parents scarred me, I know. But she has her own scars, and I’m partially responsible for putting them there. “I don’t deserve you,” I say to her, kissing her lips.

She smiles. “You deserve to be happy. You weren’t, when you were younger.”

“Neither were you,” I remind her. It’s maddening to think that while we were living across the street from one another, secretly pining for each other, happiness was right within our grasp. We were just too scared to take ahold of it.

“But I am now,” she says, a small smile touching her lips.

“So am I.”

I’m not afraid anymore. I’m so lucky. Because for the first time, I am happy. I have everything I want right here.

I look over at the mural. “I want to do so much with this kid. Read them stories every night. Take them to Old Orchard Beach. Go get blueberry ice cream at Toots. Teach them to go lobstering. Everything. I want to be just like your dad.”

Stassi kisses my temple. “You will be. In fact, I think you’ll be even better.”

It’s a lot to live up to, but I’m up for the challenge. And if I succeed, it’ll only be because I have her.

41

Three Months Later

Stassi

Shortly after the first snowfall, our baby girl arrives.

I’d just finished reading the final pages of Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance when the contractions got too close together and too painful for me to bear. I’d had a suitcase packed and in the back of Alec’s truck for a month, so when I called Dr. Freeman and told her I felt it might be time, she told me to meet her at the hospital.

After that, well … it wasn’t fun. Nobody ever has a party during labor, do they? But I got the job done. Alec was there the whole time. And now, twenty hours after I arrived in the hospital, the nurse sets our new baby girl in my arms.

“She looks a little like you,” I say to him as he leans over, touching her tiny hand.


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