Page 151 of Finding Our Reality

Ry stands up and holds out his hand, helping me. “Well, let’s go meet this lady. Raylee texted, she and the girls are already there, and Will is picking Ty up from daycare.”

Laura went home after school today with Anna. They’ve decided to form a book club. Ry has completely sparked Laura’s love of reading. Today was the first official club meeting. How this differs from their other one-thousand playdates, I don’t know, but Laura is taking it very seriously.

Cullen chats with the other bartender, reminding him that he’ll be back in about nine tonight, after our family dinner. It’ll be busy since it’s a Friday night. “I’m parked out back. I’ll see you guys there.”

On our way out, I can’t help but flamboyantly rub my large belly as we pass the two women who were ogling my man. Seven months. I’m seven months pregnant and growing larger every day. Playing along, Ry caresses his hand down the small of my back and gives my butt a squeeze.

What a good husband.

We walk hand in hand back down the block to his truck. “So, you plan on telling me what this big surprise is?”

I’m dying to tell him, but I pretend to be coy, just so I can hear his familiar words. “No.”

“Well, I suggest you quickly modify your plans, then.”

Smiling to myself, I whisper. “I finished.”

He immediately stops walking and stares at me in awe. “You finished?”

I nod. Just once.

That’s all it takes.

He pulls me into his arms, squeezing me tight—well, as tight as he can with a basketball between us—and forcing me to my tiptoes. I still love it when he does that.

His mouth slants over mine. Sliding his tongue against mine, a heated lava courses through my body.

“I can’t believe you finished. I’m so proud of you.” He shakes his head. “A book. A whole damn book. A novel! Carrie would be so proud.”

I bite my lip. “Thanks.”

After everything came out, it was just too much information for my brain to process. I not only had to deal with the complicated drug ring that had been operating since I was in middle school, but I had to process everything that happened to Carrie and her baby. Even myself. I started writing mainly to organize my thoughts for all of the trials and hearings, but then it became something more.

A release. A therapy. A way to grieve. A way to tell my sister’s story.

Hell, a way to tellmystory.

Phillip’s sentencing was just last week. It gave the story what it needed—an ending. He’ll never be a free man. He’ll die in jail.

Alone and penniless and disgraced.

Just what he deserves.

Of course, I shudder to think about what he did to his own daughter. Much to my family’s chagrin, I advocated for Kristie and wrote letters to the court pleading for a light sentence for her myriad of crimes. She was the ultimate victim—the patient zero—in all of this. She’s serving her five-year term in a minimum security psychiatric and rehab facility.

All of a sudden, the baby starts kicking like crazy, bouncing against my sides like a pole-vault jumper. Grabbing Ry’s hand, I place it on my stretched stomach. His pale green eyes grow wide, and he immediately smiles. A soft breeze blows, lifting his lightbrown hair, tousling it around. He looks just like the boy I met on the back porch when I was seventeen.

Only better.

So much better.

Love and desire cover his face like a shroud. “Amazing. Absolutely amazing. It gets me every time.”

I smirk. “I know.”

“You know, huh? Well, then, tell me something. Something no one else knows.”

“Your son has a strong kick. He’s a fighter. Just like his dad.”

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