Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 97339 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97339 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
Fuck. This day just keeps getting worse.
Letting out a sigh, I prepare for the onslaught from Brianna, watching as she sucks in a furious gasp, her eyes going wide.
In three.
Two.
One.
“I dare you to finish that sentence, Carter Waters,” she seethes as I notice a shitload of people standing around, some horrified by what’s going on while others look as though they’re settling in for a show.
“Calm down. It was a slip of the tongue.”
Her eyes grow watery, and this time, I know it’s out of pure rage rather than confused feelings. She must hate me. I’ve never seen her get quite this angry before, though I guess it’s fair, I nearly killed her.
“Oh, a slip of the tongue,” she scoffs. “That’s bullshit and you know it. You just want to keep fucking me around and messing with my emotions. Well, guess what, Carter? You’ve well and truly fucked me up.” Brianna takes a shaky breath before gathering herself, realizing she’s already said too much before lowering her tone and trying to find just a sliver of self-control. “You can’t just keep showing up in my life and making things harder for me.”
“What?” I sputter, taken back. “You think I planned this? You think I woke up bright and early on my Friday morning and thought, hmm, today’s the day I’m gonna run over the fucking love of my life.”
“Sir,” the old man cuts in, making me realize he’s still here, still butting in on something that’s clearly none of his business. “Where’s your morality? You can’t talk to a pregnant woman this way. This kind of stress is not good for the baby.”
Brianna’s eyes go wide, but I’m too busy turning to the old man to figure out why. “What the fuck are you talking about?” I demand, looking at him like he’s fucking crazy before turning back to Bri. “She’s not . . .”
The horrified look on her face has my gaze trailing down her body, over her much fuller tits, to her stomach, then I stumble back, my ribs slamming into the grille of my truck, finding her swollen stomach—a perfect fucking baby bump staring right at me like a brutal reminder of everything I gave up.
I can’t fucking breathe, feeling my heart falling right out of my goddamn chest and shattering on the dirty pavement. She’s not just pregnant. She’s pregnant. A bump like this could only be for someone who’s at least six months along.
How could I have missed that?
My stomach drops. No wonder she’s been so distant lately. She got herself knocked up, and fuck, if she’s at least six months then she would have already been pregnant when we hooked up after the funeral. I know that day was hard for everyone, but that night with her was special, and now . . . fuck. Now it’s tainted.
A mix of emotions fires through me. Anger. Emptiness. Betrayal. Did she do this on purpose to make sure there would never be a future between us, or is it just out of spite? There are other ways she could have gone about hurting me that would have been better than this. “You got yourself knocked up?” I question, feeling as though I’m moments from falling to my knees, the agony soaring through my chest and eating me alive. I knew one day she’d have a baby, but I wasn’t expecting it so soon. I feel fucking blindsided. “Who’s the lucky guy?”
I thought she would have waited to find someone special. Dated for a few years before finally tying the knot. Then sure, the kids would have come along soon after that. But she didn’t have to go and jump in bed with the first asshole who said she was hot.
Tears fall from her eyes, and for the first time, I’m far too broken for them to have an effect on me. How could she do this? Doesn’t she realize that I’m still in love with her? I would have tried to make it work if I thought there was even a slight chance. But not now . . . I can barely even meet her eyes.
Brianna steps forward, pushing the guy out of her way, and slams the piece of paper against my chest. “You’re the lucky guy, asshole,” she says, her voice breaking as the tears stream down her face. “Congratulations, it’s twins.”
Without another word, Brianna walks away, and I barely have time to catch the piece of paper as it starts floating to the ground. My world crumbles, unease blasting through my veins and bringing me to my knees as the cars stopped behind my truck start honking for me to move out of the way. But I can’t fucking move. I can’t fucking breathe.
Watching her as she goes, she drops down into her car across the street, and in an instant, she crumbles over the steering wheel, utterly broken, and I want nothing more than to go to her, to pull her into my arms and tell her everything is going to be alright, but I don’t. I don’t move a fucking inch.