Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 57043 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 285(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57043 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 285(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
Mags got her happily ever after, and I've never been happier for anyone. It almost makes me feel like I'm glowing, too. Compared to her last pregnancy this is night and day, and nobody deserves this day more than Mags.
“Butter,” she says.
“What?” I laugh.
“Belly butter,” she says tapping a single finger on her swollen belly. “I need some. The biggest tub they have for the biggest belly I've ever had.”
“Your perfect belly,” I tell her, and we make our way around to the section for moms-to-be before heading out with only the tub of butter. The cashier compliments her, too.
Then we head out to the car. A gust of December wind flies right into our faces on the way, and I grab for Mags' arm to make sure she's steady.
“I'm fine!” she shouts, laughing. “I've done this before, remember?”
“Besides,” she says as she opens the car door, “I don’t think a gust could blow me over.” I have to laugh at her joke.
In the car I get behind the wheel and turn the heat up full blast. Somehow it feels like the car's been sitting out here for days instead of forty minutes. The heat works well, though, so we won't be cold for long.
There’s a peaceful quietness as we drive off.
I check both ways at the exit of the parking lot and make the first turn toward the highway. We cruise along listening to the music as we head back toward town.
“So,” I say, after a mile or two. “Did you decide on names yet?”
“I've thought of about a hundred, but every morning I wake up and I've changed my mind.”
“Does Brody have any favorites?”
Mags grins, her cheeks flushing. “He goes along with whatever my idea of the day is. If he has a special favorite he hasn't told me what it is yet.”
“He's such a good dad.”
“Yeah,” Mags says, agreeing, smiling wider. “Even if he doesn't have the first clue how to change a diaper.”
Mags tells me cute stories about Brody the rest of the way to her place. She teases, but it's easy to see how much she loves him. When we get there, I drive up as close to the front porch as I can and hand her the bag with the belly butter.
“I love you!” I shout through the windshield as she makes her way up the stairs, holding the railing for balance. Mags blows me a kiss. I wait until she's inside, then drive to my place.
For the longest time it was just us. Time has changed that and it’s harder for me to share with her what’s happening in my life when hers is finally going right. I know she’d want me to lean on her, but I just can’t. One of us deserves happiness.
It’s not long before I’m at my apartment, thoughts and memories running through my head. My place is small and cozy and lived in, with wood floors and a large paned window in the living room. This is my little escape from the world and as soon as I'm through the front door I let out a heavy breath, toss my keys on the skinny foyer table, and flick on the light.
Then I hang up my coat and my purse and put my tips from last night into a five-gallon jug I keep by the door. It's filling up little by little, and when it's full…well it feels like if only I can do that, I can take care of other things.
As I pull my hair to the side, absently braiding it to keep the strands out of my face before sagging into my safe area, my phone buzzes.
It's a text from my mom.
My blood goes cold as I read it: I'm at your aunt's house right now.
All the little buzzing happy feelings I had from taking Mags to the baby store disappear in an instant. I can't respond to the text. I can't even think about it.
I drop my phone on the side table and rub my hands over my face, trying to keep down the emotions, then turn back to look at my personal tip jar. It won't be long, if I keep saving. It's going to keep adding up, and one day I'll have enough money not to worry. I don't need to be rich. I just need to be okay.
“I am okay,” I tell myself out loud, even as tears sting my eyes. I repeat it in my head until I believe it. I am okay. I have a good job and a nice place and everything I need to get back on track. I'm more than okay. And she’s okay for now.
One deep breath and I'm headed for a long, hot shower. I try not to think of all the times this has happened before, and instead I focus on work. Where time goes by; I can take care of everything and everyone; the world is right; Griffin gives me those looks; and no one knows anything about what’s really happening in my life.