Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 94140 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 471(@200wpm)___ 377(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94140 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 471(@200wpm)___ 377(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
There’s nothing better than this.
Studies show that people will change their careers a few times over their lifetime, but not me. I’m set. This is exactly where I want to be and no possible situation could change that. I’ve seen it all.
It’s well after midday when I finally get to take a break, and I head into the nurses’ lounge and grab my bag. I drop down on the couch to respond to a text from Mom that came through hours ago when Mel comes barreling through the door covered in vomit.
“I think I’m going to skip eating today,” she says with a cringe as she grabs a new set of scrubs and heads for the bathroom. She begins stripping out in the hallway before jumping in the shower to hopefully scrub the vomit off every crevice of her body.
I grin as I listen to her performance, pleased she’s finally getting the payback she deserves after laughing when I got drenched in pee. “Are you still going to come to lunch with me, though?” I call, hoping she can hear me over the shower.
“Yeah,” she says. “Maybe I could eat once this shit is off me and I get the smell out of my hair.”
Perfect.
Ten minutes later, she comes out dressed and ready, so we head down to the cafeteria before taking way too long to decide what to eat. After finally settling on a chicken salad, we bypass the seating area and find an on-call room to get just a little peace and quiet. Mel instantly falls to the ground and stretches out her legs while I flop onto the bed and dig into my lunch, my stomach gurgling after only having my coffee this morning. “My feet are killing me today,” she whines.
“Me too,” I tell her. “I delivered a little boy solo today.”
Her face lights up with excitement. “Really?” she questions. “You’re so lucky to be a midwife. I bet you don’t get covered in vomit nearly as much as I do.”
“True, but I get covered in shit and amniotic fluid instead.”
We both fall into uncontrollable fits of laughter, only stopping when my cheeks begin to hurt. I finish off my lunch, and with ten minutes remaining before we have to head back, I stretch out on the bed and close my eyes.
I listen to the sound of Mel typing away on her phone, and I don’t doubt she’s messaging Tom, more than happy to still fuck the dude despite my hang-ups and the shitty way he treated me this morning . . . not that I’m particularly innocent in that one. “Do I need to go out tonight?” I question.
“Ahh, yeah,” she confirms, a smile in her voice.
“This better be just a one-time thing,” I warn her, really not wanting my best friend with a guy like Tom. She can definitely find someone better than that.
“Ha,” she scoffs, “Isn’t it always?”
“Good point,” I laugh.
By the end of the day, I’m utterly exhausted, and if I can’t be at home, then there’s only one other place I’d rather be.
I push through the door to my parents’ place and instantly fall onto their couch. “Oh, hi, honey. What are you doing here?” my mother asks as she drops her laundry basket at her feet and reaches over the top of the couch to give me a welcoming cuddle.
“Mel has a friend over,” I explain.
“Oh,” she says, her face scrunching with distaste, knowing exactly what it is I mean by friend.
“Do you mind if I crash for dinner?” I ask as she picks her laundry basket back up off the floor and shuffles over to the drying rack, getting busy hanging the wet clothes.
“Of course, honey,” she says.
“You know, washing is a lot easier with a clothes dryer,” I tell her, getting up off the couch and giving her a hand.
“I know,” she says with a heavy sigh, rolling her eyes, and clearly not wanting to revisit the old argument. “How was work?”
“Good,” I say before a wide smile tears across my face, and I launch into the rundown of my day, making sure to tell her all about the vomit Mel decided to go dancing in. The clothes are hung in no time and before I know it, Mom puts me to work in the kitchen, giving me the easy jobs, knowing that cooking really isn’t my forte.
An hour later, my dad strides through the door and instantly pulls me into a warm hug. “How have you been, pumpkin?” he asks, refusing to let me go.
I’m an only child, and I must admit, I absolutely love it that way. My parents spoil me like you wouldn’t believe, and I soak that shit right up. It’s fantastic. Growing up, we weren’t that well off, but my parents did everything in their power to make sure I never went without. Though, that also meant I was alone a lot while they both worked demanding jobs.