Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 101466 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 507(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101466 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 507(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
I turned at the sound of the little thumps, smiling as our latest additions to the house tore through the living room to greet me.
Because why not adopt a new kitten and a puppy weeks before a baby was set to arrive?
Wojo barked, excited and overstimulated as usual, his tail going so fast he was almost toppling over. Catfish, or Fish, as we called her, trotted behind him, never far from his side. She was solid gray with a white stripe on her face, giving her a comical look. Wojo was a mixed breed. Small, covered in gold fuzz, and talked a lot.
They’d been brought up in the same house and put up for adoption at the local pet place. Casey saw them, fell in love, and because it appeared I couldn’t deny my pregnant wife anything, they became ours since Casey couldn’t bear to separate them. Barney and Miller accepted them easily enough, and now we had a partial cast from the ’70s sitcom, with Wojciehowicz being represented by a furry, yappy little dog and Fish by a slow-moving gray cat. The names were Casey’s idea and, again, no was an impossibility. Besides, it was rather cute.
I bent and scratched ears and tummies, then headed to the kitchen, knowing my wife would be there, waiting.
She was at the table, her feet propped up, bowl ready. I bent and kissed her, then sat on the chair, lifting her feet to my lap. I tried not to react as she scooped ice cream, then did use the spicy chips as a spoon, biting into the strange concoction and sighing in happiness.
“I can get you a spoon,” I offered dryly, knowing she would refuse it.
“No. This is delicious. You should try it!”
“I think I’ll pass.” I rubbed her arch, and she moaned in appreciation.
“How’s our girl?” I asked, leaning over and pressing a hand to her well-rounded stomach, hoping to feel a kick.
“Happy,” she replied, indicating the bowl in front of her. “So happy.”
I laughed, and below my palm, I felt movement.
“Do that again,” Casey encouraged me.
I did, and once again, I felt the press of a foot or hand.
“She likes your laugh.”
I winked at her. “She better get used to my scowl. I’m going to be a tough parent.”
Casey lifted her eyebrows. “Ha!” she snorted. “Right.”
Just then, a loud crash came from the living room.
“What now?” Casey muttered, not looking concerned.
“Sounded like the end table.”
She nodded, continuing to scoop chocolate-cherry ice cream into her mouth and munching the Dorito spoon.
Neither of us was particularly concerned. Everything edible was locked away or up high. Breakable items were out of reach. We’d replaced expensive wooden pieces with plastic until the “babies” calmed down. We learned quickly they’d decided “chase each other” was a great game, and it didn’t matter what piece of furniture they had to push out of the way to beat whoever was chasing them. Usually, it was Miller, Barney watching from the back of the sofa, a look of boredom on his face. He preferred sleeping and snuggling to frantic exercise.
“I finished putting all her clothes in her room,” Casey said, finally finished with her snack.
I put away the ice cream and helped her from her chair. “Show me. Then you can have a nap.”
“Will you lie down with me?”
“Yes.”
Four weeks later, I held my daughter. Small, red-faced, and not happy to be out in the big world, she emitted shrill cries that hurt my heart. She quieted as I held her, staring down at the miracle we’d made. Casey was exhausted but smiling, looking at us from her bed.
“She’s perfect, Pix,” I murmured, bending over to kiss her. “So are you.”
She grimaced, and I helped her shift. “I feel bloated and ugh. But happy.”
Our daughter pursed her lips as her eyes shut, her little cooing noises making me smile.
“We have to name her.”
“Thorne Jr.”
I frowned. “Not sure she suits that.”
“I dunno,” Casey muttered. “She’s done nothing but scowl since she was born. I’m not sure how I am going to handle a mini-you.”
I chuckled.
“She even looks like you.”
She did have my coloring, although I hoped her eyes stayed blue and her hair darkened like Casey’s. She was surprisingly long for a baby, and I wondered if she would be tall.
“You were thinking Daisy. I kinda like that.”
She smiled. “It would be pretty. Daisy Thorne.”
“What about Daisy Luella Thorne?” I asked gently, knowing my wife would be emotional. “After the woman who brought us together.”