Total pages in book: 40
Estimated words: 36964 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 185(@200wpm)___ 148(@250wpm)___ 123(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 36964 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 185(@200wpm)___ 148(@250wpm)___ 123(@300wpm)
“Are you okay?” he asks, his all-time favorite question since I told him about my pregnancy. I’m sure he feels the dampness from my hand. This is our first ultrasound. I worried myself sick to mom earlier today, thinking about everything that could go wrong, feeling like life is going way too easy lately for there not to be an issue of some sort.
“Not sure.” I shrug my shoulders, my eyes moving back to the screen. I wait on abated breath for the tech to finish up, ready to ask her questions like Boston does.
“Alright, everything looks good. Your baby is growing right on schedule. If anything, he or she might be a tad bigger in the growth scale. Were either of you big babies?” she asks.
“I was average, around seven pounds,” I tell her.
“I’m not sure, to tell the truth.” Another facet of Boston’s family unfolds. I wouldn’t put it past his parents not to have a baby book of him. He may have been born into the life of wealth, but the love he missed out on could never take its place in money.
“Ready to hear the heartbeat?” I nod vigorously. The news she gave us loosened the muscles around my heart, an ache so deep in my chest, I had no idea it was possible to love something so much without having them in your hands.
“Yes, please,” Boston tells her the words I’m unable to. Emotion clogs my throat every time we’re at the doctor’s office, which makes talking difficult. At least now my morning sickness is pretty much gone, though eggs still turn me off something fierce—the smell, the runny yolk—so much so that Mom now has me come into the Inn after brunch is through, meaning my hours have been cut drastically. I wouldn’t be surprised if Boston had something to do with that, too.
The woosh, woosh, woosh echoes through the room for the second time since we found out I was pregnant. We listen for as long as we can while she goes through the rest of the ultrasound, showing us where the hands and feet are forming, the umbilical cord. When it’s over, Boston somehow manages to finagle her out of so many pictures I’m sure there’s enough for our whole fridge along with Mom’s. I don’t say anything, because seeing the man you love in full dad mode hits you right in the feels.
TWENTY-FOUR
Boston
“Today is cause for a celebration. It’s not every day I get to see a picture of my grandbaby. And would you look at this!” Isabelle turns on the television in the kitchen, blaring it louder than I thought she would since at one point, Isa wanted to keep this completely under wraps. It seems those days are over with judging by the television reporting the news. A prominent member of a local news station is currently talking. My hold on Amelie tightens, bringing her to my front, hand sliding to her lower abdomen, where our child is nestled inside. I’m in constant worry that between my shit storm of a family and hers, it will do something to take the most precious thing away from us.
“I’m Amanda Walker, reporting from the New Orleans Police Department, where an update is imminent. It appears Noah Boudreaux along with his attorney, Martin Strong, and Judge Maroon have been escorted from three different police cars. What we’re hearing is that these three men are being arrested for supposedly a slew of charges. Noah Boudreaux, from what we’re hearing, is the leader of this group, finding abandoned buildings and selling them without the owners’ consent. His attorney, Martin Strong, did the paperwork and created an umbrella corporation to funnel the funding into an offshore account, where Judge Maroon is accused of signing off on undisclosed documents.” Amelie’s hands clap together, probably in excitement. The past month, Sly has been doing his due diligence, working behind the scenes making sure that when he handed over the evidence, it wasn’t to a crooked district attorney. It was hard to fathom that there could potentially be so many, but I saw what a judge was willing to sweep under the rug, trying to get Isabelle to pay spousal support when Noah had more than enough from him stealing from anyone he could.
“I mean, I know the divorce won’t be final, but if he’s in jail, he can’t bother us, none of us. I’m literally free, for the first time since this whole debacle started.” Isa is twirling around in the kitchen, floating on the high on life she deserves. Amelie is in my arms, a smile plastered on her face as she watches her mom on cloud nine.
“I’m happy for you, Mom.” She pulls out of my arms and moves toward Isabelle. The two of them hug while employees walk in and out of the kitchen to see the news and gather around, waiting their turn to celebrate no longer seeing Noah Boudreaux at the end. My phone vibrating in my pocket pulls my eyes away from the woman who owns me.