Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 67120 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 336(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67120 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 336(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
“Have you talked to someone?” I wondered.
He shook his head. “Only those that I needed to, to get where I’m at.”
I leaned my back against the mirror.
“Do you want to talk to me about it?” I questioned.
He looked absolutely horrified. “No!”
I rolled my eyes. “You don’t have to act like the idea of talking to me is abhorrent to you.”
He leaned against the wall and shook his head.
“It’s not that. It’s just that… I don’t want you to know what happened,” he said.
And his face went completely white, letting me know that whatever happened, he still hadn’t quite dealt with the aftermath.
I wondered what could’ve happened to a man like him to get his face looking that ashen.
Then again, maybe I didn’t want to know.
“Then don’t tell me,” I suggested. “But tell someone. Talk to someone. They’re not going to judge you, Gab—Malachi.”
His lips twitched at the mention of his name/not name.
“I might,” he admitted. “I might, but that won’t help me right now. Right now I’m stuck. And Luke’s kind of pissed that I’m getting all of these complaints about me.”
“Are the complaints warranted?” I wondered.
“Not really.” He shrugged his massive shoulder, causing the decorative towel on the wall to shift with his movement. “I think that I’ve just been getting a bunch of little bitches lately. They’re all ‘I want special treatment’ and I’m all ‘but you just nearly ran over a kid’ and they think that it’s okay to file a complaint about my attitude and lack of filter.”
My mouth kicked up into a smile that I tried to suppress. “What did you say?”
“Which time?” he asked.
I jumped off the counter and headed for my room.
“I need to get ready to go,” I admitted. “I think that my appointment is at eight-fifty. It’s almost what? Eight?”
“It’s only six,” he acknowledged, following me out.
I came to a sudden halt and looked at him over my shoulder.
He gave me a raised brow in return.
“You woke me up at six?” I asked. “What? Why?”
“I’ve been up for four hours,” he confessed. “I already let the dog out, too. And fed him. Also, I finished mowing your lawn.”
“It’s your grandmother’s lawn.” I felt it prudent to point out. “And I was going to do that today.”
“I did it for you.” He paused. “Even though I told my grandmother that I would do it.”
I didn’t say anything to that comment.
What I did do was walk to my closet and shut myself inside.
The room that I’d commandeered wasn’t the master. Nor was it the biggest room in the house.
What it did have, though, was one hell of a closet.
It was on the third floor, had nearly eighteen feet by six feet of closet space along with shelves galore on one side, and accommodated my wardrobe perfectly.
My row of tennis shoes were lined against the wall, and my massive amount of t-shirts, jeans, and shorts were all hanging up as if this was a showroom.
Walking to the wall of clothes, I stopped in front of the maxi dresses—the only damn things that I’d been able to stomach since I’d found out that I was pregnant.
I studied them, then inevitably picked the softest—the black one that’d been worn more times than not lately.
“That’s cute.” I heard Malachi say as I exited the closet.
I looked down at the dress.
“I can’t deal with shit confining me,” I admitted. “When it gets tight, I start to want to vomit.”
He snorted. “How far along are you?”
I scrunched up my nose. “Eight weeks?”
“You don’t know?” he asked. “Because that sounded like a question.”
I sat down on the bed and slipped my feet into my favorite shoes.
I sighed. “As far as I can tell, eight weeks. But I did it twice, four days apart, and I’m not sure which ‘time’ took. Okay?”
His lips kicked up at the corner.
Another grin that had my heart beating erratically.
Arrhythmia. In the medical world, that was called arrhythmia. And arrhythmia wasn’t a good thing.
“I guess I’ll take that answer.” He paused. “A few people must know the truth of how this immaculate conception actually occurred. Who? I don’t want to make a fool of myself lying to the wrong people.”
I looked over at him with amusement.
“One, Hastings, my brother’s wife.” I moved to the other tennis shoe. “Two, Amelia. Three, Reggie. Four, the man that I bought the sperm from.”
He sighed, causing his breath to whisper over my face.
He smelled like peppermint and coffee.
The smell made my stomach growl.
“Let’s go eat first,” he suggested. “Then we’ll go to your appointment, followed by me playing with my dog some.”
My eyes were warm as I looked over at him.
“That sounds like a plan,” I admitted. “Breakfast is my jam.”
“Nice little pun there,” he teased as he gestured to the door. “You want to ride on my bike?”
The thought of riding anywhere on his bike with him sounded like the best idea ever.