“Do you want me to bring your notebook too?”
Feeney shakes her head. “No, I’m okay for right now.”
Feeney had some surprises for us too. She was working in HR at some big company, but in her spare time, she was actually writing a novel. She submitted it to her dad’s company, now merged with mine, under a fake name, and everyone was talking about the book. Imagine both her dad’s surprise and my own when we realized it was hers. She’s since turned it into a series of bestsellers.
Yes, my wife is a bestselling author. Neither of us needs the money, so she donates all the earnings of the book to an organization she supports.
“I’m good right now. When the baby comes, I’m going to have to take a break anyway. I’ll probably be so tired that I won’t be able to think straight.”
“We could always hire a nanny.”
Whenever we have tough days, that’s our inside joke. It might not be very funny, and it might not even be a good one, but it amuses us.
“No,” she says softly, kissing me on the cheek, then quickly on the lips before she lowers her hand to Shade’s shoulder to steer him out of the house and down to the beach. “I’m perfectly happy to be super tired, I’m perfectly happy to eat burned dinner with you, and I’m perfectly happy to be a family. I love each and every minute of it. Almost,” and here, she winks at me, “as much as I love you.’
The End