Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 78793 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78793 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
“It’s time,” Mom says. “We should have done it before Cam was born, but Jared was still working at the time.”
“Stubborn,” I say, coughing the word into my hand, and everyone laughs. “I’ve been trying to get him to retire for years.”
“We don’t want your money, son,” Dad speaks up. “I made a good living.”
“I know, but I have enough for both of us.” He just shakes his head. This is a discussion we’ve had many times, and we never seem to agree.
“We’re going to go, too.” Nancy stands. “Camden, can I have a hug?”
My son rushes over and goes down the line, giving hugs to all four of them. Sloane lifts him onto her hip as we walk them to the door. “Thank you for coming.”
“Thank you for having us. We’ll see you soon,” Dad says, opening the door and motioning for the others to go ahead of him. With another wave to each of them, I close the door, and it’s back to the three of us.
Sloane peers up at me and smiles. “Thank you for this, Baker. Today was more than I ever could have imagined it would be. Our parents hit it off like old friends, and this little guy, he was so good all day.”
“Cam, good.” He grins, smacking his little hands against his chest.
“So good,” she praises, and kisses his cheek. He wiggles to get down, and she places him on his feet.
“Come on. Let’s go relax,” I tell her, placing my hand on the small of her back and leading her to the couch.
We both sit, and I’m about to pull her onto my lap and snuggle her, when my son runs over to the couch with his new truck in his hand, and when he’s about three feet from Sloane, he says, “Mommy, wook!” He keeps coming, crashing into her legs and climbing onto her lap to show her his truck while dropping a truth bomb neither of us is expecting.
I’m frozen in time as the moment settles in my heart. His mother, his biological mother, gave him life. She loved him enough to bring him into the world. She was good to him when she was around, but now, she’s gone. She died a tragic death that I wouldn’t wish on anyone, definitely not my son's mother.
“B-Baker, I—I.” Sloane tries to speak through her tears, but the words won’t come.
“Mommy, wook,” Camden says again, holding up the truck.
Sloane’s cheeks are wet from her tears, and she smiles through them. “I see, baby,” she whispers brokenly, then those sad brown eyes find mine.
No, sad is not the right word. She’s worried. I can see it plain as day, but she has no reason to be. He loves her, and to Camden, she is his mother. The only one he remembers. She’s in that role in his life, and I truly hope she’s willing to keep it for the rest of it.
“I never—” She swallows hard. “I didn’t tell him to call me that, Baker. I promise you. I wouldn’t. I’m sorry,” she says, her voice cracking.
“Mommy, Swoan sad?” Camden asks, picking up on her tears.
Sloane’s panicked eyes find mine, and I quickly distract my boy. “Hey, buddy, I bet you can’t build a super tall tower with those blocks.” I point to the tub of blocks in the corner. “Can you make a tower as tall as you?” I ask, holding out my arm to show him how tall he needs to build it.
Camden looks at Sloane, and she smiles, wiping at her cheeks. “I know you can do it,” she encourages.
“Cam can do it.” He moves off her lap, like all he needed was for her to tell him that he could, and rushes to the tub of blocks and starts mumbling to himself and building his tower.
“I’m so sorry,” Sloane says again, and I’m on the move. Standing, I pull the coffee table closer to her and sit on it so that we’re eye to eye. Reaching out, I take her hand in mine, lacing our fingers together.
“Baby, you have nothing to be sorry for.” I pause, trying to collect my thoughts. “Before you, this house was quiet. Sure, we laughed, and we made noise, but what I mean is, the feeling of the house was bare. It was just four walls that protected us from the weather, a place for us to house our things and lay our heads to sleep at night.”
“I love this house,” she says, wiping at her silent tears that are still coating her cheeks.
“The day you offered to help me changed that. From the first day, things started to brighten. This place was more than just walls and floors. It was becoming a home. A home that I look forward to coming home to every damn day. A home that I crave like nothing I’ve ever craved before, every time that I’m away.