Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 69452 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69452 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
My stomach sank.
He’d miss my appointment.
That… sucked.
Just because I wasn’t talking to him didn’t mean that I didn’t want him there.
This was important.
This was our life that we were starting.
And what if he got worse? What if this was all the time I had with him?
Just the idea of not having those days was enough to send my heart into panic mode.
“So I’ll skip it,” I suddenly decided. “That’s the best course of action.”
“Baby,” Nash said. “You’re going to that appointment.
But I wasn’t.
I wouldn’t go without him.
“I won’t go without you,” I said. “And before you say ‘I’ll go’ just know that I won’t let you go. That’s incredibly stupid. We can put it off for twelve days. It’s already been this long.”
By my calculations, I was over four months along at this point.
Two more weeks weren’t going to change anything.
“All right,” the nurse nodded. “If you’ll get out that’ll be great. I’ll keep him company.”
I looked at her to see an evil smirk on her lips that she couldn’t hide quickly enough.
She was happy that I wasn’t going to be there.
Because she knew who Nash was.
She was happy that Nash wouldn’t have someone to hold his hand through this, and she’d be the best substitute ever.
Fucking bitch.
Couldn’t she see how hard this was?
And, because I wasn’t a total asshole, and I could see that he felt bad, I hadn’t tortured him too much. Was I still mad? Hell yes. Was I taking it out on him? Also, yes. Would I ever let him forget it? Absolutely not.
But would I deny him my presence when he was going through something so big? No.
Would I force him to skip an appointment that was going to change both of our lives? Resoundingly hell no.
“We can FaceTime,” I offered. “I’ll sit right out there on that bench with that other pregnant lady. That way she doesn’t talk to me because I’ll be on the phone with you.”
He flashed me a weak grin.
He was still upset that I had to leave.
He could also see that the lady who was about to administer harmful stuff into his veins was trying to get a leg up on me.
Two birds, one stone.
“Sure,” he said softly. “Can you get that done for me now?”
He already had his IV in, and his eyes were wary, as if he knew the lady would distract him before he could make the call or answer it.
“Yeah,” I said, then called him using FaceTime.
He answered, and the phones started making a weird ringing sound because they were too close.
“I’ll go,” I whispered.
Why did it hurt so damn bad?
I turned on my heel and was about to take a few steps in the opposite direction when he called my name.
“Zip?”
I turned back to him.
He held out his hand, and again, because I wasn’t torturing him too badly, I took it with my own.
He pulled me in, and I didn’t stop coming until I was standing between his splayed thighs.
“Kiss me.”
I felt the tears burning my eyes as I bent down and did just that.
He let me go a few seconds later when the woman at his side cleared her throat, and I gave her a focused look as I said, “Don’t make me go to your supervisor, ma’am. You may think you’re hot shit here, but let’s just say, I think my man has a little more clout with this hospital. Especially since he donated almost his entire December paycheck last year to help build that new children’s wing.”
With that comment, I left, not sparing either one of them a look back.
When I got outside, the pregnant woman who’d been sitting on the plush couches was gone, but her stuff was still there.
I took a seat, dropped all of my stuff beside the couch, then started walking toward the bathroom.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
“I’m going to the bathroom,” I admitted. “I should’ve known with the extra urges to pee that I was pregnant before. I mean, there were some glaringly obvious signs.”
“What signs?” he asked, looking at the phone.
I looked up, unable to keep the eye contact.
My heart was still broken because of what he did, and I couldn’t maintain that sort of connection without wanting to cry. And that wasn’t what he needed right then.
“The peeing every fifteen minutes. Then, when I do double unders at the gym now, I pee every time I jump. My boobs hurt, and I’ve had to start wearing some more supportive bras. They’re bigger, which I’m sure you’ve noticed. Plus, I’m just so hungry,” I admitted.
He made a sound in his throat, and I couldn’t stop the glance at him.
He was watching me, and his eyes were sad. And angry.
As if he was mad at himself for doing what he did.
“I’m going to tell my parents today,” he said softly.