Total pages in book: 35
Estimated words: 33254 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 166(@200wpm)___ 133(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33254 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 166(@200wpm)___ 133(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
“Don’t be stupid, Thatcher!” she responded, and a sob got stuck in her throat. “This is all my fault! And to think, today, I was going to take you back to the salon to get the Supercock cock-jazzled! It’s like I’m trying to destroy us all!”
“Cock-jazzled?” I probed, momentarily pulled up short from my mission. “Is that even a thing?”
“Do you really think that’s what’s important right now, Thatcher?” she tossed back, and I knew she was right.
We had far more important things to concern ourselves with than the merits of cock-jazzling. I mean, I still didn’t know if that was even possible—like, it didn’t actually sound like a real thing—but it was the least of our concerns.
I needed to get my wife to a fucking doctor, and I needed to do it quick.
“Cass,” I said and stepped toward her to gently place my hands on her shoulders to stop her manic momentum. “I need you to take a breath, try to calm down, and get yourself dressed.”
She just stared at me, equal parts shocked and baffled. “Get dressed?”
“Yes, get dressed,” I repeated. “I need to get you to a doctor.”
“You think I need to see a doctor?” she questioned, her bottom lip trembling.
There was no sugarcoating this. No trying to appease her emotions to prevent a total breakdown. The only thing I could do was give her the straight truth.
“Honey, we need to go to the ER, and we need to go right now.”
Fluffing hell. I didn’t know what it was about Panama City Beach, but it really felt like this town was trying its hardest to give us the shittiest, most horrifying honeymoon of our lives.
But I’d be damned if we weren’t going to face it together.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had a day this horrible.
What should have been an awesome day filled with getting the Supercock adorned with my name in shiny jewels and getting Thatch to test out the stripper-twerk moves Emma Bone had taught him the other night had turned into me waking up with blue skin and my vagina looking like she’d been stung by a thousand bees.
And when Thatch said I needed to go to the emergency room, I’d pretty much shut down.
Thankfully, he kept his cool just enough to get me dressed and put my panicked ass into an Uber.
Though, in my defense, he was panicked too.
By the time Tammy, our Uber driver, pulled up in front of Panama City Regional Medical Center’s ER entrance doors, Thatcher had given her more than an earful about our whole medical ordeal.
The poor woman looked petrified as she wished me luck, but also, she didn’t hesitate to get the fluff out of that parking lot the instant we were out of her car. She was probably headed straight home to break out the Clorox wipes and a rag to scour her back seat.
Everything turned warp speed once Thatcher checked me in.
Nurses and doctors and pretty much every damn person who worked in the ER had managed to make their way into my room to see the blue freak show with the elephant-sized vagina.
“Cassie Kelly?” an older man dressed in aqua scrubs and a white coat stepped into my room.
“Is my baby going to be a Smurf? Are you going to have to amputate my vagina?” I blurted out in a rush from my spot on the gurney, my body only covered by one of those stupid hospital gowns. “Am I…am I going to die?”
“No to all of the above.” The doctor shook his head, a hint of a grin raising the corners of his mouth. “I’m Dr. Carlson, by the way.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Doc. I’m Thatcher Kelly. The husband.”
Dr. Carlson smiled at him. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Kelly.”
“Love that we’re all getting to know one another,” I chimed in. “But can we move this along and get to the part where you tell me what in the hell is going on with my body?”
Dr. Carlson met my eyes and smiled. “Well, Mrs. Kelly, there are a few things happening with you, but I want to make it very clear before I even get into the details that nothing is life-threatening, and your baby is doing great.”
Instantly, I breathed a sigh of relief. “So, I’m not a bad mom?” I questioned. “I didn’t turn my baby blue by getting vajazzled?”
“You did nothing wrong.” He shook his head and set down his chart on the counter by the sink. “The redness and swelling you’re currently experiencing are because of an allergic reaction to the adhesive that was used when they…” He paused, and I had no issues finishing his sentence.
“Vajazzled my pussy.”
Thatch choked on a laugh, and Dr. Carlson’s cheeks turned red. “Uh… Yes. That.”
“Okay, but what about my skin? I mean, am I turning blue because of that, too?”