Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 28852 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 144(@200wpm)___ 115(@250wpm)___ 96(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 28852 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 144(@200wpm)___ 115(@250wpm)___ 96(@300wpm)
I think for a moment.
“Maybe,” I say in a soft voice. “I dunno.”
“Just think about it,” Ramona encourages. “I know I’m not a professional therapist, but there could be a silver lining to this. I mean, you were basically in a gray area with Sam because you guys are stepdad and stepdaughter. But now … limbo no more. There’s a baby on the way, and you’re being forced to figure things out.”
“I guess so,” I acknowledge. “Although it’s not exactly comfortable.”
“Change is never comfortable!” Ramona insists. “But it’s key to personal growth and unlocking this conundrum. I know this sounds like mumbo-jumbo horseshit, but I think the pregnancy is definitely forcing you to confront issues that were simmering on the back-burner.”
“That’s one way to put it,” I say in a dry tone. “I mean, he is my stepdad. It’s not often girls have a baby with the man of the house.”
“Exactly,” Ramona says. “But now, you have to deal with it. You have no choice, Harlow, so just look at this as an accelerant in the course of history.”
“Course of history?” I laugh. “I’m just one person. I’m not changing the world.”
Ramona takes my hand in hers, pressing it urgently.
“But you are, Harlow. Or you could be because what if your baby is the next Serena Williams? You could be changing the world, given her impact on not just tennis, but sport in general, as well as medical treatment for Black women and the rise of people of color in traditionally white-dominated sports. Serena made a difference, and maybe your baby will too.”
“That’s a lot to put on the shoulders of someone who’s not even born yet,” I say in a wry tone.
“But maybe,” Ramona insists. “Just don’t spend all your time being mad at Sam, okay? Nothing exists in a vacuum, and maybe something good will come from all of this.”
I nod seriously.
“I’ll think about it. Thanks, girl. I appreciate your pep talk.”
But as I sip at my tea, I can’t but help think that I’m even more confused than ever. Is my baby the next Serena? The next Venus? The second coming of Jesus? I’m just so mixed-up mentally and there’s a lot to work through, with or without Samuel White in my life.
13
Sam
I look blankly at the server as she leans over, pouring another cup of coffee. Her huge breasts sway gently, covered only by the tiniest pink pasties, and she’s wearing a short pleated skirt with sky-high heels. But I suppose that’s how things work at Club Z. Even for breakfast service, the waitresses are dolled up and ready for action. Meanwhile, Adaline, as her name tag indicates, flips her blond curls over her shoulder and giggles.
“Isn’t the coffee here scrumptious?” she asks in a musical voice. Clearly, she’s trying to flirt to see if I want in on the action, but this isn’t the time. I only want her to go away and let me eat my meal in peace.
“It’s fine, thank you. Leave the carafe,” I say in a wooden tone.
She nods graciously.
“Of course, Dr. White. Just let me know if you need anything else.” Then, the pretty server is off and I’m left to my own devices. Well, at least at Club Z they train them well because she knew to leave me alone when I needed it. I look around, morosely, even as another man nearby calls Adaline over and then begins sucking on her tits. Usually, that would get at least a second look from me, but I’m not interested because Harlow’s gone. The sweet girl fled the night of our fight, and I haven’t seen or heard from her since. Evidently, she’s staying with her friend Ramona, but that’s all I know.
Depressed, I left the townhouse as well and moved into a suite at Club Z. I have no idea what my girl is doing, and our last interactions consume me. What the hell was I thinking? How could I have been so brazen, not to mention uncaring and a straight up asshole? I should commit seppuku for what I did.
I stab at my omelet, wishing Harlow would at least answer my calls, but she never does, and I don’t blame her. I open my phone and scroll through my messages, but the last one from Harlow was two weeks ago. Goddamn it. But then a shadow crosses the table, and I look up, ready to give whoever it is a tongue-lashing. Yet my voice disappears entirely when I see the gorgeous girl standing at my side.
“Harlow,” I stammer like an idiot. “What are you doing here?”
She looks as fresh as a spring rain in a short green dress and trench coat. Her hair is pulled back but a few tresses hang loose about her face, her cheeks flushed and glowing. Oh god, and her mouth. I’d love to devour that sweet pout right now but I force myself to sit still.