Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 56257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 281(@200wpm)___ 225(@250wpm)___ 188(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 281(@200wpm)___ 225(@250wpm)___ 188(@300wpm)
I look at the photo of Mom again, sitting so serenely with the lake in the background, wearing a dignified swimsuit and a hat, her teeth shining in the sun, her eyes shadowed and judging. “I just can’t, okay?”
“It wasn’t… was it?” she says.
“No, no,” I tell her quickly. “It was good. Really good. I’m happy it happened.”
I almost snap my hand over my mouth for daring even to think that, let alone say it. It’s not supposed to enter my head. I’ve been so good at trying to keep it at bay.
“And you’ve missed your period?”
I swallow, my belly warbling, almost like there’s a baby in there already. Confused feelings flood into me—an instinct. Protect the baby, but there might not even be a baby in there, and even if there is, what sort of future would they have? It’s not like Rust will be able to be in their life. So, I’ll be a single mom. Okay, plenty of people do that. Except, how will I explain it? What will I tell Brad?
“Yes,” I say, “but only by a few days. I’m probably worrying about nothing, right?”
There’s so much desperation in my voice. I can hear it, and I hate it. I hate how badly I want to be forgiven as if Chrissy can wave a wand and make all this guilt disappear.
“I think you should do a test, honestly,” Chrissy says.
“But what if it’s positive?”
“Then you’ll have to make a decision.”
I swallow, pain pulsing through me—actual, physical pain. Luckily, the tattoo was small, and it’s already starting to heal fully. I’ve taken good care of it. It won’t interfere with the pregnancy, will it? Already, I’m thinking about the little bump, their tiny fingers and toes, and no, that’s wrong. “It’ll be a little bastard anyway,” Mom viciously jabs into my mind.
“I’ve got to go,” I tell her. “Love ya.”
“Mary—”
I end the call, then message her. I’m sorry. I need to be alone. x
It’s not as if being alone makes this any easier. There’s just too much to think about, to stress about, but Chrissy is probably right. I need to know if I’m late just because or if there’s a more significant reason, a life-changing reason. Taking the blanket from the box under the bed, I wrap it around myself. I should’ve ditched and burned it, but it smells of what we did. It smells of us. The warmth reminds me of that night.
It’s early, only seven p.m., but I must’ve fallen asleep. I wake to the sound of knocking on the door.
“Mary, you up?”
Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I sit up. It’s Brad. “Uh, yeah.”
I realize too late that I’ve answered before hiding the blanket. It’s not as if Brad pays attention to stuff like blankets. He hasn’t even noticed. The paranoid part of my mind tells me he’ll be able to smell what we did, smell the betrayal.
He opens the door, standing in his cargo pants and his work gear, almost looking like Dad did in his cop’s uniform. “You were asleep,” he says.
“It’s fine, really.” Just don’t smell what I did with your best friend. “What’s up?”
“I wanted to run something by you. Remember when you were a kid? I was always saying I’d take you on vacation, but we never had the time or the money?”
“Brad, you don’t have to feel bad about that!” I jump to my feet. I’m about to hug him when I realize something else again, but it’s too late. He’s looking at me like I’m on something. My reaction is way over the top. I try to turn it into a joke, laughing too hard and jabbing him in the arm. “You, uh, ya big wuss.”
“Ha, ha,” he says.
“Sorry. I’m dumb.”
He laughs for real now, shaking his head. “Whatever. It’s fine. No, I was thinking, let’s go to the East Coast for a trip.”
“The East… Wait, to see…” I can’t even say his name in front of Brad. I don’t trust myself. I know I’ll let some of it slip, the passion.
Brad answers for me. “Rust, yeah. Honestly, his coach called me. He’s not having a good training camp. He’s been trying to keep a brave face with me, but Marquis thinks he’s not sleeping or relaxing, maybe because he lost to this man before. Marquis thinks seeing me might help.”
“And I have to come?”
Brad looks wounded. It makes me feel awful right away. “Uh, no, no.” He seriously looks devastated. “Not if you don’t want to. I thought it could be good. Nice. For a few days.”
“I’d love it,” I tell him, forcibly changing my mood, demeanor, and everything.
“Really?” he asks, and I can tell it means a lot to him. He always talked about the trips we’d take, but life happens. Bills exist. I think Rust helps him now, but he only started making real money in his last few fights.