Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 114192 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114192 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
“Please, Mags …” His baby blue eyes are the epitome of sadness as he whispers, “I’m begging you.”
A shuddered sob leaves me and all I can tell him is that I’m sorry. Steadying my breath, I lower our hands until he releases them and I cup his stubbled jaw, knowing it will be the last time. I don’t dare kiss him. Even though he leans into my hand, closing his eyes. He takes it in his own and kisses the palm of my hand.
“I’ll always love you,” he whispers like it’s a promise, and hot tears escape down my cheeks.
Licking the taste of salt from my lips, I selfishly try to lighten the moment with a whispered question. “Couldn’t you make it easy on me and tell me you hate me?”
“I could never hate you, Mags.” He gathers himself, seeming to take into account the fact that we’re a mess on the floor. Pressing the heel of his palms to his eyes, he takes in a heavy breath. “I have to go,” he says as he rises, but I stay where I am, merely watching him.
“I love you,” he tells me again and I know he does.
I can’t help but give him the truth back. “I love you too.”
I watch him leave and the moment the door closes with a soft click, my body crumples forward and mournful sobs leave me. I’m still in that position when Renee comes out, asking me if I’m okay and I tell her the truth, I’m not.
I loved him. I still love him. I’ll always love him.
But I love Brody more.
MAGNOLIA
Everything in my life might be falling apart, but getting the results of the paternity test was supposed to make it a bit simpler. Not a thing feels easy about it after what I just went through. My eyes still burn and doubt fuels my anxiousness.
I’ve never been so thankful for Renee.
“I’m sorry you have to take care of this mess,” I say, gesturing down the front of my pajamas for emphasis. My hair’s still wet from the hot shower I just took.
Passing me two Advils, she orders me to take them to ward off the headache that comes from crying your eyes out.
“You’d do the same for me,” is all she says and she’s right. I would.
“You know you need to just open the email and get it over with, right? I think things will feel better once you do.” She refers to the paternity test again.
Nothing feels easy or simple as I nestle into the couch with my throw blanket, along with the knowledge that the results are burning a hole in my phone.
Renee has been with me every step of the way so far. And clicking on this email will change my life, one way or another. More importantly, it will change Bridget’s life. Deep breaths. I’m a good mama, and I have the best friends anyone could ask for.
With a dry throat I remind myself that’s all that matters. This one email won’t take that away. It may change things with Robert or Brody, but things have already changed.
Every time I consider ripping the bandage off, I can’t get Robert’s sorrowful gaze out of my head. He looked so devastated, coming here. I wanted to do better for him and take away his pain, and I couldn’t do it.
Leaning my head back against the couch, I listen to the breeze blowing outside the window. The floor creaks as Renee steps away from Bridget’s room before pausing in the hallway after putting the bottle back in the bathroom. My heartbeat is so loud.
Renee’s footsteps approach the living room and I open my eyes, parting my lips to tell her it’s time to open the email. She interjects before I can say anything. “Convinced her to go down for a nap. You owe me one.” I pat the couch next to me and Renee takes the spot I’ve offered. A crease forms in her brow. It’s a change from how she seemed when she got up to get Bridget, but maybe she’s just feeling the awkwardness from when Robert arrived. “I have to tell you something. It’s something about Robert,” she says with a long exhale.
At that moment, my finger slips. I don’t mean to click the email, I just do. It opens, and the results are there on the screen.
“Robert is the father,” Renee tells me with unexpected confidence. Her eyes are closed as if she’s preparing to confess some sordid secret.
“What?” The word slips from me, my gaze moving from her to the phone.
I read the email twice in a row as the sound of her voice fades into the background. A numb sensation takes over my body, washing over me from head to toe. This moment has been a long time coming. My mind can’t take it in, though.