Total pages in book: 48
Estimated words: 46257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 231(@200wpm)___ 185(@250wpm)___ 154(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 231(@200wpm)___ 185(@250wpm)___ 154(@300wpm)
“Wait a minute. Wait a minute,” Ash says hastily, sitting up and resting his weight on his arm.
“We only have one baby, Bridget…don’t we?” he asks, his voice cracking with emotion once he sees the look in my eyes.
He sees my hand running across my belly, sliding out the positive pregnancy test I’ve tucked in my robe pocket. I’ve been waiting for just the right moment to tell him, and this is definitely the right moment.
Every moment is just right with Ash.
Better than just right, it’s perfect.
“We’re gonna have another baby,” Ash beams, kissing me deep and long as we both fall back onto the bed together.
“Wait,” he says suddenly. “This isn’t payback for the whole bravery award/wedding thing?” he asks, pretending to look around.
Waiting for a crowd of people to burst into our room.
But I assure him with a shake of my head, and a smile, that it’s not.
“It’s just us, Ash. Mommy, daddy, and two babies…and I’ve never been so happy.”
“I love you, Bridget Masters,” he whispers, kissing my hands again and holding up the test with the little blue plus sign.
“And Amy…and you, little one,” he whispers to himself, kissing the test as if it’s his unborn child.
I can’t help but laugh, and not because what he’s saying isn’t so adorably sweet.
“What?” he whines.
“Uh, baby?” I ask him in a matter-of-fact tone. “You do realize I peed on that, don’t you?” I ask him, and screwing up my face, he kisses me fast.
Long before I have any chance of escaping it, or his gentle grip on me.
“A baby,” he says again, his dark eyes shining with the light that only that news could bring.
“Our baby, number two,” I remind him, and snuggling up close to my man, we lay on the bed, counting the minutes until Amy wakes up again.
Running through baby names aloud, with Ash pausing regularly. Putting his ear to my belly, assuring me that the little one either really likes or really doesn’t like a particular name.
It’s the perfect end to a perfect day. Ash and I are having some different fun in bed, with little Amy sleeping soundly.
It doesn’t get any better than this, and I can’t wait to meet little Amy’s brother or sister.
Ash and I already decided to keep that a surprise for us both, at least.
FIVE YEARS LATER
Ash
Zeke, Alex, and the twins are all long asleep. And although she’s been up four times already for a glass of water, our oldest, Amy should be back asleep by now.
The storm outside is making the old place creak a little, but it’s the thunder and lightning Amy doesn’t like.
The other kids? Pfft.
It’s hard keeping them up past seven unless something exciting’s happening. But Amy’s got more than just her dad’s brown eyes.
She’s scared of thunder, but she’s a big girl now, so she insists on sleeping in her own bed.
Which is fine by me.
I roll onto my side, reaching out for my security blanket in a storm, Bridget.
I am humming with my own nighttime reasons to stay awake as I remember that first night we spent together.
That perfect storm the night I claimed her.
I squeezed Bridget closer to me, letting her know this big spoon had just turned into one with an extra handle.
She mews in her sleep and then gasps, fully awake as she starts to purr.
Sliding that babymaker right up against mine. The storm triggers some happy memories for her too, perhaps.
She rolls over and embraces me, kissing me with a passion that hasn’t waned once since that first time.
The same bed, the same room. Just a different storm for us to make love to.
“Dadddddyyyy! I’m scared,” Amy says from our open bedroom doorway.
Lifting my head from between her mother’s legs, I make sure we’re all decent before flicking the bedside lamp on.
“Amy, what is it? Is it the storm?” her Mommy asks, but I know that look.
Poor kid’s terrified.
And there I was telling her to just go back to sleep.
“C’mere, baby,” I whisper to Amy, lifting a coverlet from the end of the bed so she can wrap herself up in it.
“It’s freezing, Amy. Get up here,” I urge her. And suddenly wide awake and not very frightened at all, Amy leaps up onto the bed, sandwiching herself between me and her Mom, who is tucked in under our own sheets.
“I can camp here tonight. We can tell ghost stories,” Amy announces as her Mommy and I share a look.
A ‘raincheck’ look that means we’ve only hit the pause button on what we were just starting before Amy decided to join us.
“Nothing we can’t reheat later,” we chuckle, and Bridget remarks, but Amy thinks we’re talking food now.
“We could roast hot dogs while we camp. Right here while we wait out the storm!” she exclaims, and I figure she means just pretend hot dogs.