Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 90290 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 451(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90290 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 451(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
“You’re the best,” Elle says as she gives him a kiss.
I grab a handful of paper towels and set them on the seat. Elle and Ben do the same. “My mind is going places it shouldn’t. Is this the type of room Noah’s in? I didn’t ask him last time because deep down I don’t think I wanted to know about him touching . . .” Nope, not going there. Honestly, they should let wives in with the men, then the process can be enjoyable for both.
Ben nods. “Yep. If I turn the TV on, you’re going to see things you wish you hadn’t.”
“Yeah, let’s not. Peyton’s having enough of a crisis right now.”
She’s not wrong. Although is it much different from reading about it in books? Maybe Noah should read something with me and then we can talk about it, maybe even experiment.
“It’s the people,” I say. “The stares and then their faces when they realize who we are.”
“I’m surprised it bothers you,” Elle says.
I shrug. “It normally doesn’t, but this is private. I suppose we should’ve made better arrangements.”
“That’s on me,” Elle says. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking. This is the doctor Ben used before his surgery and it made sense for us to come here. I should’ve asked for something after hours.”
“It’s fine,” I tell her.
The door opens and Noah walks in. His cheeks are red. It’s his . . . face though, the expression on it, and I immediately regret having my sister and her husband at this meeting. “Hey, did everything—” I cut myself off, unable to ask him if everything went okay. This isn’t the first time he’s had to leave a sample. This is just the important one.
Noah comes to me and leans down. “Everything went fine.” He kisses the spot where my ear and cheek meet, then stands and clears his throat. “Uh, why are you in this room?”
“It’s very peopley out there,” Elle says.
I’m surprised Ben didn’t shout that we wanted to watch porn or something.
“Ah,” Noah says. He reaches for my hand and holds it while standing next to me. “The nurse said she’d be in to get us shortly.”
“Do you want to sit?” I stand and offer him my seat. He takes it and then pulls me down onto his lap. I nestle into his chest and breathe him in. His familiar scent is a natural aphrodisiac for me. From the time I knew what it was like to feel something for someone, it’s always been Noah. Anytime he was near me, his cedarwood after-shave has caused my lady bits to sing, dance, and beg for his attention. I’ve been attracted to one other person, but it was nothing like this. Noah gives me butterflies. He always has, and I suspect he always will. It’s in his eyes and the way he looks at me. It’s in his touch, even the subtle ones like when he reaches for my hand at night or grips my hips mid-thrust. Even his voice, when he says my name or calls me babe, can turn me into a wanton woman, willing to stop what I’m doing just to be in his embrace.
Noah rests his hand on my stomach, protecting what’s there and not there, yet. There isn’t a doubt in my mind he’s going to be the most amazing father. It’s me who I worry about. The irrational fear I have about the world, life, and society. My therapist assures me I’ll be a good mother, but words and actions are different. I already feel like a letdown.
The door opens, and the nurse comes in. She sits down without reservation, making me question her sanity. She knows what goes on in this room and if she thinks for one second men are cleaning up after themselves, she’s sorely mistaken.
“I’m Dakota, as I understand it you want to have your consultation together?”
“Yes,” Elle says. “We figured we’d save time. Obviously, my sister and I don’t need to be on the table at the same time.”
“Right, your sister?” The nurse looks at her file. Noah and Ben stifle a hard laugh while I look at Elle, knowing my eyes are bugging out.
“Yeah, she’s my twin. Don’t you think we look alike?” Elle asks.
Noah can’t contain his laughter.
Dakota looks up from her file. She eyes Elle, then me. “I can tell you apart,” she says with so much enthusiasm I want to believe her. Teachers we had for years had trouble telling us a part, which Elle used to her advantage. A lot.
“No, you can’t,” Ben chimes in. “You don’t even know them.”
Dakota’s cheeks redden and briefly I feel sorry for her, but it’s obvious—Elle and I are identical twins. Over the years, we’ve tried to change our looks and have failed. She cut six inches off her hair once and called me while I was at the salon, sitting in the chair, getting six inches cut off mine. We figured, what’s the point? The important people in our lives know the difference, and with us living in different states, it’s really not an issue.