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)
Shaking my head, I open my mouth to explain, but I can’t. I can’t speak the truth Easton broke me with. Saying the words feels like a betrayal to my father’s memory. “The whole thing makes me feel like an idiot, Tea. It’s like I’m looking at a map with a million different roads, and the only rule is I can’t stay where I am. I see all these options, and everything’s confusing, but there’s one thing I know for sure.”
“What’s that?”
I meet my friend’s eyes. “The timing and logistics might be awful, but when I sat in the doctor’s office and she started asking me about my periods, my biggest fear wasn’t that I might be pregnant; it was that I might have something terrible wrong with me that would keep me from having kids. I want this baby.”
She takes my hand and squeezes it. “Then start there, but don’t assume you have to leave. Your mother will love you and this child no matter what.”
“And what about Easton?” My voice cracks.
“I don’t know, baby. I think he’s the only one who can answer that.”
“Will you come with me to my ultrasound tomorrow?”
She pulls me into a hug. “I wouldn’t miss it.”
Shay
When I got to campus this morning, there was a note from the department secretary in my mailbox saying Dr. Alby needed to see me in his office. I planned on talking to him this morning, but judging by this note, his wife already had a conversation about it with him last night.
I hope she chewed his ass out—and not in the sexy way.
When I knock on his office door, I’m numb.
“Come in!” His tone is decidedly grumpy. Good. That makes two of us.
I push into his office and shut the door behind me.
When he tears his gaze away from the computer, his eyes lock on that closed door. “Shay. I think it would be better if you kept that door open.”
What a fucking asshole. “Really? You didn’t mind me closing it when you were cheating on your wife with me.” Oh. Wow. That felt great. Why was I putting this off?
He blows out a breath. “Merritt told me you came to her office last night. And before you get all high and mighty with me, you should understand that I made the decisions I did based on my gauge of your maturity level. After the way you handled speaking with her, it’s clear that I made the right call.”
In this moment, I see George clearly for the first time. Honestly, I’m disgusted with myself for getting personally involved with him. I’ve always known on some level that George needed taking down a notch, but why on earth didn’t I ever find his ego annoying? Like, vagina-shriveling unacceptable. I shake my head. “My maturity level? What a convenient excuse that must’ve been for you—to lie to your wife and keep me in the dark about your marriage so you could fuck me. You knew I would’ve turned you down if you’d told me the truth.”
He rocks back in his chair, chest puffed up, nostrils flaring with anger. “I suppose now you’re going to act like you didn’t want to? Play the victim card and say I coerced you through the mentor-mentee power dynamic?”
I shake my head. “I never thought that. Your evaluation of my work and guidance of my research always felt completely separate from our personal relationship.”
He swallows and his chest caves in. Good. At least he’s been a little worried about it.
“I didn’t sleep with you for academic favors,” I say, realizing we need to get this cleared up first. “And I never felt like you used your position on my committee to get me in bed.”
He scrubs a hand over his face, nodding. “Okay. Good, good, good. This is good to hear.”
“That’s a lot of good in reference to a situation that’s pretty fucked up, George. You’re not off the hook for not telling me about your wife. Not with me, at least. If she wants to ignore what you’ve done, that’s on her. Even if I wanted a relationship with you, I wouldn’t forgive you for keeping me in the dark. I don’t have the energy to hash out how I feel about your lies right now.”
He smirks. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”
I cock my head to the side. “What exactly did your wife tell you?” Did she tell you I’m pregnant?
“She told me to get out.” He shifts uncomfortably. Ass sore, George? “And then she told me I needed to talk to you.”
“She’s right. We do need to talk.”
He stares at me and when I don’t immediately explain, he says, “Spit it out.”
“I’m pregnant.”
He goes pale then seems to shake away the instinctive panic. “The football player works fast.”
“The baby isn’t Easton’s.” I stare at him, but when he only stares back with that constipated confusion face, I say, “I’m eleven weeks and four days pregnant.” I pull the ultrasound picture from my purse and place it in front of him on the desk.