Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 98321 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98321 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
“People might think it’s weird.”
“Fuck people. I don’t care what they think.” He reached across the table and took my hand. “I want to do this together. Do you?”
“Yes,” I said without thinking twice. “The house has tons of potential, it will be an excellent investment for you, and it will be a fantastic marketing tool for me. I’d love to document the entire renovation on social media and then hold a big open house once it’s complete.”
“Okay. Then let’s do it.”
I smiled, linking our fingers. “Let’s do it.”
That afternoon, he took my car for an oil change at Griffin’s garage while I got some work done at home and did laundry for both of us. I even ironed a couple of Enzo’s shirts, laughing as I recalled my wedding vows.
That night, we met up with friends for pizza, and I heard him telling Cole about a bunch of my ideas for the new house. “She’s so fucking talented,” he said. “This could be huge for her.”
When we got home, we barely made it into bed before going at each other again. I tore at his clothing like it was on fire. I fisted my hands in his hair. I grabbed and pulled and begged and dug my heels into the backs of his thighs, coming undone beneath him as stars exploded behind my eyes.
Afterward, as I brushed my teeth and washed my face in the bathroom, I was starting to think I’d landed in some kind of alternate universe.
“Hey, say something to bug me,” I told him as I climbed back beneath the covers. “We’ve been getting along so well all day, I feel like I’m losing my grip on reality. Or like maybe you’ve been kidnapped by aliens and I’m going to give birth to something that looks like Baby Yoda.”
He laughed. “Don’t say that. What if he can hear you?”
“Who? Baby Yoda?”
“No, our baby.”
“We don’t have a baby.”
“You don’t know that.” Rolling onto his side, he pointed at my stomach. “He could be in there right now, listening to us. Or what if it’s a girl? You’re giving her a complex about her looks already.” He patted my belly. “Don’t listen to her, sweetheart. You’re beautiful.”
I laughed, swatting his hand away. “Even if she was in there, she doesn’t have ears yet. Now stop jinxing us. All I wanted was for you to say something annoying.”
“Okay.” He propped his head on his hand and looked at me. “I think it’s weird that you cut your pizza with a knife and eat it with a fork. As if you’re too fancy to pick it up like a normal person. How’s that?”
“That’s good.”
“And why do you have so much shit in your car? And in your purse? What are you, a homeless person?”
I sighed. “That’ll do.”
“You sure? I’ve got more.”
“I’m sure. Turn off the light.”
He did, then gathered me close to him again. “Night, Lucy.”
“Night, Ricky.”
A week later, I got my period.
I was disappointed, but it wasn’t like I hadn’t been expecting it. I’d known what the odds were. I’d had them explained to me plenty of times. I couldn’t even be sure I’d ovulated during my last cycle. And yet I still found my eyes blurry with tears and my throat lumping up as I reached beneath the bathroom sink for the box of tampons. Enzo had gone to the gym early, and right from there he went over to the Moretti & Sons office, so I didn’t tell him right away. It wasn’t the kind of thing I wanted to say on the phone or in a text.
I was lying in bed finishing a good twenty-minute ugly cry when I heard him come in around four that afternoon. After fixing up my face, I went downstairs with slow, heavy steps.
He was in the kitchen looking at his phone, but he glanced up when I came in. Right away he noticed something was wrong. “What?” he asked, his dark eyes concerned.
“It didn’t work,” I said, my throat constricting. “I’m not pregnant.”
Immediately he set his phone aside and wrapped me in his arms. “I’m sorry. Are you okay?”
“I’m okay.” His warm, solid chest was a comfort. “This month was a long shot anyway.”
“I’m going to refrain from making jokes about my awesome long shot.”
I laughed in spite of the desperate urge to cry.
“So what’s next? When can we try again?”
“Well, I’m going to start Clomid on Monday. Then I think we can try again about ten days after that.”
“Okay. In the meantime, let’s focus on getting that house, okay? How about we put in a lowball offer and see what happens?”
I nodded.
“Hey.” Releasing me, he tipped my chin up, forcing me to look him in the eye. “In ten days, we can try again. And by this time next month, we’ll be celebrating. I know it.”