Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 79599 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79599 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
“I . . . I . . . I miss Mia,” she cries.
Ahhhh, and it all makes sense. She’s an overtired, emotional wreck, still trying to figure out this whole parenting thing. But hell, she’s handling it like a pro, much better than I’ll be doing it in a few months. “You’ve only been away from her for a few hours,” I remind her, but apparently that’s the wrong thing to say.
“Four hours is a lot when I’ve never left her before,” she tells me. “I tried to be brave for Miller so he’d be confident when I left, but the second I stepped out the door, I just wanted to go back. And I know that’s a shitty thing to say to you because I really have had a good time with you, but I miss her so much. And my tits hurt. I need to pump, and I just . . . I just . . .”
“It’s okay,” I say, desperately trying to calm her down. “Mia is doing fine. The boys would have stuck to her schedule and she did a great big shit. They would have called if there was any trouble.”
“You don’t really believe that do you?” she scoffs. “Miller would have been all like, I can handle it, don’t call Dani. She needs her girls’ day.”
I cringe. He definitely would have said that. “Yeah. You’re probably right, but don’t stress. We can skip having lunch out. We’ll head home and have lunch with the boys instead.”
“Are you sure?” she asks, pulling back and looking up at me with blazing blue eyes, red-rimmed from her tears.
“Yeah, babe,” I smile. “Besides, after that massage, I could really use a little attention from Tank.”
“Ugh,” Dani groans. “That was supposed to relax you, not get you hot.”
I shrug my shoulders. “What can I say? She had her hands all over me.”
“Oh my God, Sophie,” she sighs, shaking her head.
Realizing she’s in no position to drive, we quickly change positions by climbing over the center console, reminding me of all the times I did this as a teenager. Though the situation was extremely different, and I didn’t have this baby bump in the way back then. After we’re both settled in our seats, I hit the gas and get back on our way.
We get another few minutes down the road when Dani’s tears finally stop and she glances at me, ready to say something, when an excruciating pain shoots through my stomach. “Ahh, fuck,” I cry as my hand wraps around my bump, tears instantly springing from my eyes.
I do my best to swerve off the road without hitting anyone and come to a screeching stop, Dani’s hand clutching the holy shit bar with wide eyes. “What’s wrong?” she rushes out, her gaze sailing over me.
I can’t answer. All I can do is remember to breathe.
Clenching my eyes, I recline the chair all the way back, desperately needing to stretch out as the pain only gets worse. I hiss through my clenched jaw, barely holding on. “Fuck, Sophie. What’s wrong?” she repeats. “Is it the baby? Are you having contractions?”
“I . . . I don’t know, I don’t think so,” I cry as I try to get back to focusing on breathing, my hands roaming over my stomach, willing the pain to go away. “It hurts. Something’s wrong.”
“Can you move? I’ll drive us home. Or do you want me to call an ambulance?” she questions. “I can get Tank to meet us at the hospital.”
I focus on taking quick, short breaths, and the pain starts to fade a little. “I . . . I don’t know. I think it’s getting better,” I tell her.
Her lips press into a hard line, not wanting to take any chances. “Yeah, I’m coming around,” she says before pushing her door open and jumping out onto the road. She quickly hurries around the car, and if I hadn’t pulled over, I’d be bitching her ass out for being so stupid.
Dani meets me at my side and helps me out, before walking with me around to the other side. She helps me climb back up into the car and reclines the seat so I can be comfortable. Within seconds, she’s back in the driver’s seat, both of us a complete mess. “Home or hospital?” she questions, letting me make the final call.
“Home,” I tell her, the pain starting to get much better, definitely not hospital material. But hell, the second I can, I’ll be knocking down my obstetrician’s door and asking what the fuck just went down.
Dani pulls out into the traffic, concentrating on getting us home, but her eyes never once stop flicking back to me. “Are you okay now?” she asks as she quietly turns the radio back on, both of us needing that background noise to help relax us.