Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 103109 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 516(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103109 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 516(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
“You’re . . . pregnant?” She’s pale. She actually looks like she might be sick.
I shake my head slowly. I’m not done. “And by assuming I came here to lie, by assuming I’d go to such disgusting lengths because I want him, you’re only enabling a lying womanizer. Shame on you. If you want to believe him, go for it. Personally, I want nothing to do with him.”
Something flickers across her face, but I’m too angry to analyze it. I’ve said what I needed to say. I’m done.
Easton
Me: Come over for dinner? I’m grilling steaks.
Shay: Not tonight. I’m tired.
Me: You could come over and nap? My bed is pretty damn comfortable if you recall.
Shay: I just need a night at home.
I want to ask if she’s sure everything’s okay, but I already asked that when she left my house this afternoon. I want to ask if the idea of Scarlett moving here is freaking her out, but I already asked that too. I want to tell her I love her, but I’m a little afraid that this time she might not say it back.
Shay
I got back from Chicago around nine and went straight to Teagan and Carter’s. Carter is helping Easton with the equipment setup in his new theater room, and Isaiah is visiting his grandmother. I knocked twice before strolling right into their house and sitting my pregnant, emotionally exhausted ass down on their couch.
“Here. You look like you could use this.” Teagan emerges from the kitchen and hands me a bottle of beer.
“No alcohol for me.”
“Still the stomach thing, huh?” Shrugging, she returns the beer to the fridge. “Coffee?”
“I’m actually trying to cut back on my caffeine intake too.”
This shocks her. “You really must be feeling ill. But honestly, the coffee is probably harder on your stomach than the alcohol, so good call.”
There are a dozen excuses I could easily use to not drink alcohol or caffeine, but now is really as good a time as any to share my big news with my best friend. I clear my throat. “About that . . . I went to the doctor this morning. It turns out there’s an explanation for my exhaustion. A . . . pretty obvious one that also explains the nausea and food aversions.”
Her jaw goes slack and she lowers herself into the chair. “You’re pregnant.”
Tears burn at the back of my eyes. I know if I speak I’m gonna open up the floodgates. I really don’t want to cry again today, so I just nod.
“Holy shit.” She puts her beer down and rushes back into the kitchen. She yanks open the freezer. “Ice cream?”
I nod again and watch as she fills two large bowls with chocolate peanut butter chunk swirl. My favorite.
She doesn’t say another word until we’ve each eaten several bites. “Are you okay?”
I’m sure she must have a thousand questions, but I’m so grateful she chose to start there. “Yeah. I mean, I’m getting there, at least.”
She watches her bowl as she pushes a spoonful of ice cream around. “It’s definitely George’s?”
I laugh. God, for a blessed moment in the doctor’s office, the possibility that it was Easton’s crossed my mind. No, not possibility—dumb hope. “It’s George’s.” I put my ice cream down on the coffee table. “Easton and I talked Sunday, and I decided I wanted to stay in Jackson Harbor and give him and me a chance. And now instead of going out on dates with him and finding a job in the place I really want to be, I need to figure out how I can blow them away at my L.A. interview so I can start over somewhere else.”
“Wait. Is that what you want to do? Start over?” She shakes her head. “Why? I don’t understand.”
Because I’m too ashamed to raise a married man’s child in front of my mother. Because I’ll do anything to avoid disappointing her like that. Because I can’t ask Easton to raise another child that isn’t his. “It wouldn’t be unexpected, would it? It’s what I’m supposed to do next.”
“The only thing you’re supposed to do next is figure out what makes you happy.” Teagan puts both of our bowls in the sink before returning to the living room. “You didn’t answer my question. Is that what you want?”
“I’ve spent the last eight years of my life working on this PhD. I’m a good teacher. I’m a grown woman. I can do this.”
“Of course you can. I have every faith in you, but why move to L.A. if you don’t want to live there? Why leave your family?”
“Because I can’t look my mom in the eye and tell her I’m having a married man’s baby.” I close my eyes and hot tears stream down my cheeks.
“You didn’t know, Shay. Just explain. Your mom will understand.”