Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 77717 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77717 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
“Probably. I hate packing.” He makes a face and stands, taking both our empty dinner plates off the table to put in the dishwasher. “If I start now and slowly bring shit over it won’t be that bad.”
I nod. “What about your furniture? It won’t all fit in here.”
“Fuck. I hadn’t thought about that. Is there room in your basement?”
“There is.” With this house being older, the basement is dark and cold, making it feel more like a cellar. Plus, it’s creepy. I keep the door closed and rarely go down there. “We can swap some stuff out. Your stuff is a bit nicer.” Most of my furniture is a hand-me-down from my sister, parents, or grandma. But hey, it works.
“Whatever you want,” he says. “But I am putting in my TV.”
“It’s going to take up the whole wall!”
“I know.” He smiles. “Trust me, you’ll learn to appreciate watching your princess movies on it.”
“I probably will.” I lean back, resting my hands on my belly, and yawn. “These twelves are killing me,” I say then regret it. Noah worries too much about me working.
“You should cut back your hours. Or start your leave earlier.”
“If I start earlier, then I’ll have to come back sooner. Though, that is tempting.” My back and feet scream in protest every morning when I get dressed. Noah comes over and helps me up, and we take our conversation into the living room. The dogs follow, squeezing onto the couch with us.
“You get off at four tomorrow, right?”
“I do. Why?”
His full lips pull into a smile. He shaved his beard off last week and it’s coming in thick already. He looks good with and without it. “I booked you a prenatal massage.”
My eyes light up. “Seriously? Oh my God, thank you!”
“I didn’t know they were a thing, or else I would have done it sooner. A client told me about it yesterday. It’s an hour massage then a pedicure. It’s at four-thirty, so you can go right after work. Then come back here and I’ll make dinner. And later you can thank me sexually, of course.”
“Of course.” Maybe I’ll be in the mood after some pampering. Because right now, Ella is pressing down hard on my pelvis, making sex uncomfortable. So much for keeping romance alive the whole nine months.
My phone buzzes with a text message, and I reach to grab it off the coffee table.
“Yay! Rachel can make it to the shower this weekend!”
“Rachel Brown, right?” Noah asks. Should I be impressed he remembers her? She was over at our house just as much as he was when we were kids. I guess it’s not that surprising.
“Yes. She wasn’t sure if she could get off work Monday. She lives in Texas now. I haven’t seen her in ages.”
“I’m glad she’s coming then.” He pulls me close and kisses me.
My heart feels so full right now, sitting there with Noah. He’s been so thoughtful, so caring and attentive. Thirty weeks ago, my life changed forever. And right now, I’m thinking those changes are for the better.
I get home from work Thursday, ready for a nap already. I go inside, change out of my scrubs, let the dogs out, and get the mail. Afraid of getting another bill insurance won’t cover, I cringe every time I open my mailbox. Half the time there’s nothing in there since I get everything via email now.
Today, there is one large white envelope. My heart drops into my stomach when I see it.
“Holy shit,” I mumble and flip the envelope over. With everything else that’s gone on, I totally forgot about this. Now my hands are shaking. I start to open the letter but stop and rush inside, grabbing my phone. I call Noah, get his voicemail, and hang up.
I can’t wait any longer. I rip open the envelope and unfold the letter, eyes scanning like mad. My hand flies over my mouth and excitement rushes through me. Holy fucking shit.
“I got in!” I scream. I have to read the acceptance letter one more time to believe that I got into vet school. Ella flips around, excited with me. “I got in, little girl!”
Then it hits me: I can’t go away to Purdue University in the fall.
I can’t leave Ella.
My excitement dies and I sink back onto the couch, unsure of how to feel. I’m incredibly disappointed … but I shouldn’t feel that way, right? I’ve worked so hard the years to get this far, and now I’m in. I got into vet school. And I can’t go.
My phone rings, and I get up to get it, moving on autopilot. “Hello?” I say to Noah.
“Hey, baby. I’m still at the studio. A shoot took longer than I expected. I’ll be home soon.”
“Good.”
“How was your day?”
“Fine. Hurry, because we need to talk.”
“Is something wrong?” he asks, a little panicked.