Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 109843 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109843 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
My tits were excellent. Except for the veins and the fact that they were one-third nipple now. My cheeks were fuller now that I was on solids again, and my eyes seemed brighter, more awake. Even my lips seemed fuller.
When I walked into the kitchen, it was clear Kip was not expecting me to be up. He almost jumped when I walked in.
I held up my hands. “Down, soldier,” I teased. “I’m not armed.”
I hadn’t intended on teasing him. I’d intended on keeping my guard somewhat up. Scowling at him and such. Scowling, even before this whole fiasco, was not out of the question at this hour of the morning.
But for whatever reason, I went with the tease. I even grinned at him. Not a full smile but an olive branch.
Kip blinked once at me, then did a quick once-over before his face shuttered. Completely and utterly. Gone was the warmth and softness from last night. Gone was the man from last night. This was a completely different person.
No, this was a familiar person. This was Kip from the past few months.
My heart sank in my stomach.
He didn’t say anything to me. He literally just nodded once and went back to the toast he was making.
I could’ve vomited right then and there. I also could’ve hurled a coffee mug at his head. My first instinct was to turn tail, run back into my room, hide under my covers, and cry for a thousand years.
Instead, I strolled forward to snatch a mug from the cabinet, not moving out of his way, in so much as I almost shoulder-checked him if he hadn’t squeezed himself against the counter at the last minute.
I felt a small victory in that. Making him uncomfortable, forcing him to move for me. I’d enjoyed doing that on the street in my younger days. If I saw a man coming in my direction, on a collision course with me, I’d resolve myself not to move. Why was it that women always had to move out of the way of men? Why did men think they could just stroll down the fucking street like they owned it, never changing course to accommodate someone else?
Of course, it wasn’t all men. There were plenty of polite, decent guys out there. I just never happened to encounter them on the street.
And multiple times, those fuckers had engaged in a game of chicken with me and ended up slamming into my shoulder, hard.
Kip was not engaging in a game of chicken. He didn’t want to collide.
Problem was the fucking crash had already happened.
kip
I was in a bad mood.
That was not unusual these days.
Everyone avoided me. Guys who’d worked for us for years, guys who I’d shared beers and jokes with, guys I considered friends all inclined their heads, gave me respectable nods, and no longer met my eyes. There were no more jokes, no easy atmosphere on the worksite. At least not when I was there. And I was the one person to blame for that shit.
Because I couldn’t hold it together. Because I was frayed to the last single thread of my control, my sanity. It was Fiona, the situation. I felt fucking trapped. Suffocated. Again, I could leave. But I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to live with myself if I did. Furthermore, I couldn’t trust myself to be alone on the road where no one knew me, where no one gave a shit about me. Though the list of people who gave a shit about me now was considerably shorter than it had been five months ago.
It wasn’t just Fiona. It was the fact that being married to her, going along with this entire fucking facade, meant I couldn’t escape my shit like I had been for the past five years. Couldn’t drown myself in cheap booze, in pussy, couldn’t cloak myself with a persona that hid what a fucking wreck I was.
So yeah, I was a grumpy bastard. I snapped at people who didn’t deserve to be snapped at, I alienated my friends, and I hurt my wife.
My pregnant fucking wife.
I couldn’t stop thinking about her fucking face this morning. She’d been up early. Much earlier than usual. I’d noted that she was even slower getting up now that she was pregnant. Made sense. She was sick as fuck, on her feet all day, and growing a human. She shouldn’t have to get up at the crack of dawn.
I’d actually sought Nora out one morning to communicate just that.
The woman had greeted me with an arched brow and guarded expression when I knocked on the door of the bakery before anyone got there. More often than not, Rowan was there with her, because my friend didn’t like to be away from his wife, and he didn’t like her alone in the bakery before most of the town woke up. I also knew he now alternated since they had a kid to think about and he’d be at home with her.