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)
I know Camden needs to get into bed, but it’s so damn nice to have someone here at the end of the day. Mrs. Ward was very much a "you're home, I’m leaving or going to my own space" kind of woman. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but some adult conversation at the end of a long day is nice.
“Swoan, up.” Camden stands next to her with his arms raised in the air. She lifts him to her lap and smooths his hair back out of his eyes.
“He needs a haircut,” I comment, smiling at my son.
“I can take him if you want? I don’t mind.”
“Really?”
“Of course. Is there a specific place you like to go?”
“There’s a barber not far from the stadium. I’ll text him and get an appointment. Thank you.”
“Did Mrs. Ward not do that for you?”
“No, but I never asked her either. He’s my son. I should be doing those things for him.”
“Baker,” she says softly. “You’re a dad with a busy career. This little man knows how much you love him. Mrs. Ward was here to help you. Now it’s my job. I’m here to help ease your burden. Let me do that for you. Ask me for help. I want to help you.” She smiles down at my son, who has his head resting on her shoulder as he plays with her hair. “Both of you.”
I nod as I finish my dinner. “Thank you,” I finally say. “Haircuts are not a part of your job, but it would be nice if we could get him a trim before the services.”
“Do you know when that will be?”
“No, but I’m guessing next week sometime, from what Levi’s family has told me.”
“Well, we’ll get this little guy all spiffed up with a fresh haircut, and he’ll be ready.”
“All right, bud, are you ready for a bath?” I ask my son.
“Swoan, baf,” he says, sleepily.
“Come on, you. Let’s get you clean and into some jammies.” Sloane stands, offers me a smile, and moves to carry him upstairs.
“I’ll take him,” I say, rushing to stand, and take him from her arms.
“Swoan,” Camden whimpers.
“I’m right here, sweetie,” she says, reaching out and offering him her hand.
That’s how we climb the stairs, the three of us linked together. In the bathroom, Sloane helps with his bath, at Camden’s insistence, and helps him into his pajamas.
“Do you want to pick out a book?” I ask my son.
He nods, rushes to the bookshelf in his room, and grabs a book before handing it to me and climbing into bed.
“Daddy,” he says, patting the spot next to him.
“So demanding,” I tease, climbing into his big-boy bed with him.
“I’ll be downstairs,” Sloane says, and turns.
“No!” Camden says. “Swoan, book.” He pats the other side of the bed.
Sloane’s eyes find mine. “King Cam has spoken,” I say, keeping my tone light. “Come read a book with us, Swoan,” I say her name just like Camden does.
“You two are too handsome to say no to,” she says, moving to climb into bed, on the other side of my son. She settles on her side, and when her eyes meet mine, all the air seems to be sucked out of the room.
When my son snuggles into her side, grabs my hand, and tugs, my heart hammers, but I move in close. Closer to him, and closer to her, and I start to read. I can’t help but think this is how it’s supposed to feel. Having someone to share these moments with. I know Sloane isn’t that person—that’s not why she’s here—but in this moment, it feels like it’s ours. And for the first time in my life, I don’t know how to follow the play.
Chapter Ten
Sloane
* * *
I’ve been up for a couple of hours. Baker didn’t tell me what he needed me to do today, but I figure that’s because he doesn’t know. How does one plan for laying their child’s mother to rest?
So, I took some liberties. It’s easier to ask for forgiveness than permission, right? I’m dressed and ready for the day, so when I hear Camden cooing in his room, I head in to get the little man ready.
Baker went back and forth on taking him to the service today. It will be two weeks tomorrow since he got the news that Natasha and her fiancé, Levi, were killed in a plane crash. Levi’s parents handled everything, and from what Baker has told me, they’ve been great about keeping him informed.
“Hey, bud,” I whisper as I step into Camden’s room. He rubs at his eyes, his hair sticking up all over the place, and then he gives me a heart-stopping grin. The same one I’m greeted with every morning when he sees me.
“Swoan,” he says, his smile growing wider, if that’s even possible.