Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 67000 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 335(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67000 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 335(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
“Ahh,” Quaid shook his head. “I don’t even know what to say to that.”
“Me neither.” Germaine shrugged, as if he couldn’t have cared less that he’d gotten them done. “But I couldn’t very well just sit there while she got hers done without paying for the seat I took up. Then things kind of devolved from there.”
“Well, what happened was he saw me getting my feet massaged, and he wanted it done, too. And there was a bit of a language barrier, and well, he ended up getting the whole treatment. Shellac and all,” I said just before the buzzer buzzed, indicating our food was ready.
Quaid glanced at the side of the table where our plastic bag of pregnancy tests sat, then said, “I’m going to get the food.”
“He’s scared.” Germaine lifted the bag and said, “You’re pregnant.”
I didn’t need the clarification.
I knew.
My breasts were tender.
My waist was thicker.
The tiredness that I’d associated with burning the candle at both ends had more meaning now.
“I know,” I said as I took the test out that clearly said pregnant and placed it at his spot.
He came back with his hands loaded down with plates and started passing them out, studiously ignoring the test until the last possible second.
“Shit,” he said when he finally took it in his hands.
“I was really, really careful about peeing on that,” I said. “But you still might want to go wash your hands since you just picked it up from the wrong end.”
He did, coming back with a towel in his hands and a bit of green tint to his face.
“It’ll be okay, son.” Germaine chuckled. “The first one is always the scariest. Let’s just hope there’s only one, and not three.”
The utter horror on Quaid’s face was what got me through the rest of the day smiling.
I’m kind of a lady, but definitely more of a weirdo.
—Text from Ellodie to Quaid
ELLODIE
I decided to tell my dad first.
Mostly because I knew my mom would freak out, and she’d need his support when she found out.
I checked the clock and wondered if he was still in the field or not.
Most likely, he was.
But his Bluetooth was connected to the tractor, and there was no doubt in my mind he was listening to his audiobooks while he did what he had to do for the day.
But the question was, would he answer me?
Me:
Dad
I waited ten minutes for him to answer, then texted again.
Me:
Dad, I really need to talk to you.
Another ten minutes went by, and I texted again.
Me:
Dad! This is really important!
I sighed and went back to work, typing up reports on the patients I’d seen today.
I was on the third one when I decided to just say fuck it and text him for real.
Me:
Dad, I’m pregnant.
Still no answer.
Though I knew he’d seen them all.
Again, his fancy ass tractor had a Bluetooth that read him off everything, text or calendar notifications included.
I’d been in that tractor enough to know that they did.
Likely, he was ignoring them because he’d rather listen to his audiobooks than answer my texts.
But this was important.
Me:
I just ordered you donuts. I even have someone sending them to the field you’re on.
He answered ten seconds later.
Dad:
There better be donuts, or I’m disowning you.
I snorted, then got into my phone and ordered him some donuts. But not before having a note added that said: You’re going to be a grandpa. Congrats!
He sent me a selfie of himself eating the donuts while giving a thumb up.
That was my dad.
The life of the party.
The next call went to my mom, who sounded harried when she answered.
“Sorry, baby, but I’m scrambling to get Daddy some food. I forgot to go to the store yesterday, and I’m trying to decide, will he kill me less if I give him a turkey sandwich? Or should I go with Ramen?” she word-vomited the moment she answered.
I pinched my eyebrows together.
Some things would never change.
And my mom’s scatterbrained self was something she’d battled with for her entire life.
“Don’t worry about getting him any food,” I said. “I just sent him donuts and milk. He’s happy.”
She paused. “Why did you do that?”
I only did that on special occasions, and she knew it.
“Well,” I hesitated, then blurted out, “I’m pregnant.”
She squealed.
It was the sound of an excited pig at dinner time.
“You’re pregnant?” she cried out.
I smiled. “I’m pregnant.”
“When do you go to the doctor? How did you find out? How far along are you?” she questioned rapidly, knowing I wouldn’t keep the secret for longer than necessary. i.e., a half a day.
“Today, we go to the doctor,” I answered. “Quaid is meeting me there.”
She squealed.
Then sobered.
“So, you’re getting married?” she asked.
I rolled my eyes. “Actually, that hasn’t been discussed yet. It’s too soon.”
“It’s too soon to be throwing a baby into the mix, too…” she trailed off, letting her worry for me hang in the air between us.