Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 97275 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 486(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97275 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 486(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
I opened the door and scanned for the other half of my hamburger that I’d had to sneak out of the restaurant with. Freakin’ Max bitched the entire time the waiter was gone to get out change.
He’d told me repeatedly that I didn’t need to take that home, that it was half a hamburger, and barely enough to be a light snack. I’d told him that a light snack was all I needed sometimes, and shoved it into the pocket of my hoodie while he was signing the bill.
Now here I was eight hours later, yearning for that cheeseburger as I’d never done for anything before. Except that, it wasn’t there. The mother humper was gone. I couldn’t see it anywhere. I scanned the counter tops, praying that I didn’t forget to put it in the fridge, except I didn’t see it there either. I know for a fact that I’d brought it home, because the whole time we were driving home, I could smell it, and was quite concerned that Max would figure out that I’d brought it home, even though he told me not to bother.
I was getting into a real lather now. I wanted that burger so bad, that I thought I’d die if I didn’t get it. Walking into the living room, heading for the keys on the coffee table, I stopped dead when I saw the empty to go bag I’d shoved it in, as well as three empty beer bottles, two snack cake wrappers, and an empty glass of chocolate milk.
I saw freaking red.
Who in their right mind would eat a pregnant lady’s half-freakin eaten hamburger that she practically had to hide to bring home? What kind of spineless, no-good, worthless rat would do that to his wife? Turning a circle in the living room, my eyes landed on the dowel rods that I was going to use for a Pinterest project. Then on the fabric beside it. My mouth stretched up in a wide smile. He was going to kill me.
Forty-five minutes later, I was done, and now determined to wake the sleeping beast. It was now three A.M. and I was going to make that little shit go get me a freaking hamburger if it killed me. He had to pay, and by the end of this day, he would never eat my hamburger again, or anything of mine for that matter.
Stomping with determined steps, I walked into our bedroom and snapped the light on with an audible snap. Max came awake instantly, and had his .45 in his hand before he even knew what the situation was. He slept with that bastard under the pillow. It was held in a firm grip as his eyes surveyed the area, and then came to rest on me.
His mouth curved into a large smile. I looked down, and yep, my pants were still crooked, one pant leg up and one down, my socks in a bunch at my ankles, and my shirt was sideways, half covering my belly and half not. I looked hideous, but there was no time to dwell on the state of my clothes.
Hitching my hands up on my hip, I glared my fiercest glare and said, “Where. Is. My. Hamburger?” I punctuated that statement by bursting into tears. My whole badass persona dissolved in the tidal flood.
He lost his grin, and his eyes widened when he saw how upset I was. “I honestly didn’t think you would want it. Seriously, if I’d have known you actually wanted it that bad…”
I won’t subject anyone to what I said next. I might or might not have gone overboard. I’d only thrown a few things, but none of them connected, so it doesn’t even really count. Let’s just say that I tried not to go all Exorcist on him, but by the time I was done, he was dressed and heading to his truck to get me a new hamburger.
The longer he was gone, the more guilt I felt. I might have over reacted a tad bit and I felt like a total heel. It wasn’t until the thirty-minute mark of him leaving that I started to worry. It took me ten minutes to get to Dairy Queen and back from Free. If you added the five-minute wait time it takes them to make the food, then he would have been back here fifteen minutes ago. Picking my cell phone up off the table, I called Max’s phone only to hear it vibrating from the other room. Hanging up with a huff, I paced from window to window.
Maybe he wasn’t leaving to get me Dairy Queen. Maybe he was more upset then he seemed to be. As I sat, I knew that worrying wouldn’t help anything, but I have the type of mind that always thought the worst.
My mind takes weird leaps. For instance, my mom wasn’t home to make dinner meant she was lying dead in the grocery store parking lot. My dad didn’t make his usual weekly call, which means he was taken for ransom by some terrorist organization, being tortured for the government. My brother didn’t come home on time from football practice, then he knocked some girl up at a party and he was trying to find a way to tell my parents.
Oh, wait. He already did that. The amniocentesis was scheduled for this coming Monday. We would know as soon as forty-eight hours from then whether or not he was going to be a father at seventeen or not. We still had yet to tell my parents. We felt it prudent not to shock my father twice in six months. He was still going on and on about the Navy, and how his dream for his son was to follow his example. We felt that this would be too much for my father, and didn’t want to worry him if it wasn’t actually necessary.
The loud rumble of Max’s truck pulled up in front of the house, and I dropped the blanket from around my shoulders and took off outside, launching myself into Max’s arms. He caught me awkwardly, partly due to the food he was juggling, and partly due to my stomach. I wasn’t being deterred though.