Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 62994 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 315(@200wpm)___ 252(@250wpm)___ 210(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62994 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 315(@200wpm)___ 252(@250wpm)___ 210(@300wpm)
“I want to show them the ocean,” she says softly. “I’ve never gotten to go, and I promised myself that if I had a kid one day, I would make sure they get all the chances I never did.”
“I’ll take you both,” I murmur. “Wherever you want to go.”
“And if it’s a girl,” she whispers, “I want to teach her how to be strong. How to be brave. How to take up space in the world.”
“And if it’s a boy,” I say, “I’ll teach him to be a man who protects, not harms.”
She smiles, small and aching and beautiful. “I like that.”
Silence settles over us again, warm and fragile. Then I gently take her chin between my fingers.
“Molly, listen to me.”
She looks up at me, questioning.
“I’m going to protect you,” I say, my voice steady and absolute. “I’m going to protect you and this child with my life. Nothing will happen to either of you. Nothing. I swear to you.”
Her breath trembles. “Samuil…” she starts, but I can’t let her finish.
“I’ve never had anything worth protecting like this,” I continue. “I’ve never had anyone who mattered to me like this. I will do whatever it takes to keep you safe. Let me keep you safe.”
She nods and tucks her head under my chin, a sign that feels like surrender and acceptance. I wrap both arms around her, holding her as tightly as I dare. She fits against me perfectly, like she’s always belonged exactly here.
She falls back asleep against me, but my mind is too wired to slumber. I still can’t believe that I’m going to be a father. I can’t believe that somehow, despite everything I’ve done in my life, I even deserve this.
12
MOLLY
Iwake up with my cheek pressed against Samuil’s chest, the steady rise and fall of his breathing nudging me back into the world. It takes me a second to remember where I am, but once I do, the warmth in my stomach settles deep and sure.
Samuil knows about the baby now and he seems genuinely happy about it, which is a relief.
My stomach does a little somersault as I remember his expression. I place my hand low on my belly without thinking. I know it’s too early to feel anything, but I imagine my baby there, sleeping soundly and feeling safe. He or she is already so loved, in a way that I never was. I take a deep breath to keep the tears at bay. I’ll never let my child go one day without knowing how much I love them.
For a moment, I don’t move, letting myself feel the weight of Samuil’s hand resting on my hip. It’s strange how easy this already feels. It’s like I pressed a button and all of a sudden, we were a cozy couple.
It’s actually a little alarming. I don’t know what to do with a relationship like this. I’ve never experienced this kind of affection before, and I’m sure I’m going to ruin it.
I try to sit up slowly so I don’t wake him, but his arm tightens around me.
“You’re awake,” he murmurs, voice low and sleep-rough.
“Yeah,” I whisper. “What time is it?”
“I’m not sure,” he answers hoarsely. “It must be close to noon. We might as well stay in bed for the rest of the day.”
He shoots me a seductive grin, and I can’t help but giggle. It’s a tempting offer, but I can’t. My nerves are buzzing too much. I’m supposed to see my OB-GYN this afternoon. It’s my first ultrasound, and I’m dying to see my baby and hear its heartbeat for the first time.
“I should probably get up, actually,” I say quietly.
He finally opens his eyes, studying me carefully. I think he’s looking for any signs of regret or fear. The last couple of days have been a lot for both of us.
“You don’t have to rush,” he says.
“I do, actually.” I sigh. “I have an ultrasound at three.”
He nods once, brushes a strand of hair from my face, and lets me go.
I make my way to the bathroom, trying not to overthink the strange mixture of comfort and tension swirling inside me. After a long shower and several attempts to calm my nerves, I join him in the kitchen, where he’s already dressed and drinking coffee. He watches me over the rim of his mug, like he’s making sure I’m really okay.
“Can I come?” he asks carefully.
“Of course,” I say, feeling the warmth spread through me. We eat a quiet lunch and then he calls for his car.
The drive to the clinic is quiet. He holds my hand, brushing his thumb slowly back and forth over my skin like a mantra. I look out the window, trying to keep my breathing slow.
“Are you nervous?” Samuil asks softly.
“I’m not sure.” I swallow. “Maybe a little bit? This appointment will make everything real.”