Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 57866 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 289(@200wpm)___ 231(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57866 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 289(@200wpm)___ 231(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
“I better go. He’s picking me up soon,” Marlowe said, reaching for my hand and squeezing it. “Happy New Year, Shelby. Becoming friends with you was one of the best things that happened to me this year. We’re going to slay this new year together.”
I squeezed her hand in return, grateful she’d stopped by. It was a reminder that I wasn’t alone anymore. Marlowe knew I didn’t want my mom to know I was pregnant, so she kept that on the down-low, but I could feel the encouragement in her gaze.
This time next year, I’d have a baby to ring in the new year with. I pictured us in silly hats, probably sacked out before the ball dropped. It sounded perfect to me.
“We should order some food,” my mom said after Marlowe left. “How does Chinese sound?”
It sounded terrible. I wasn’t throwing up from pregnancy sickness anymore, but I still felt queasy and exhausted most of the time and trying to hide it from my mom wasn’t easy. Since I didn’t have much energy for cooking, we’d been having food delivered every day.
Whether it sounded good or not, though, my growing baby needed nourishment.
“I’ll call in an order,” I said. “What do you want?”
“Chicken fried rice and eggrolls. You should sit down and rest after that. You look tired. I’m going to clean the bathroom.”
I pressed my lips together to hold in my sharp comment. I’d never known my mom to volunteer to clean a bathroom or wash dishes, but she’d washed the dishes a couple of times since being here. Not that there were many, but still. Maybe she was finally getting her life together.
“We should go get our hair done next week,” I said. “And pedicures, too. My treat.”
Everything was my treat, because I was pretty sure she was penniless. But the money didn’t matter. I’d never done things with my mom that other mothers and daughters did, and if she was willing to try, I was, too.
“That sounds really nice,” she said, getting up from the couch. “Where can I find cleaning supplies?”
“In the cabinet under the sink.”
I ordered our food, surprised my mom was still cleaning the bathroom when it arrived forty-five minutes later. After we ate, she went back to work and I curled up on the couch, scrolling on my phone and wishing Beau would text.
Things would never be the same between us. Our easy friendship was gone now, replaced by the awkwardness of…whatever that night was. Had we almost slept together? I’d been ready to, and that was a big deal for me. Years ago, there had been one other man I’d wanted that with, but we broke up before the time was right.
For a few incredible minutes on Christmas, I’d felt beautiful to Beau. Desirable. Like half of a whole. Not like we were going to be a couple afterward or anything, but like I was exactly what he wanted and needed for that one night, as he was for me.
The worst part was, I hadn’t thought of him that way until he gave me the necklace. I was deliberately trying to keep him at arm’s length since I didn’t want him to have regrets about agreeing to not have any relationship with my child when it was born.
Being friendly was nice, because it would help me tell my son or daughter what kind of man their father was one day.
When he’d walked into my apartment with leftovers and that gift, though…I’d let my guard down. All the way down. I’d imagined what it would be like to be with Beau, and then he’d kissed me and it wasn’t so imaginary anymore.
I knew what it felt like to be touched and kissed by him, held and cared for by him. I’d given up on hoping for those things, and he’d brought back the hope and then pulled the rug out from under me.
Damn him. I vowed to start the new year looking forward instead of backward. Between work, pregnancy, and my mom, I had enough on my plate already.
I woke up in the evening after falling asleep on the couch and saw my mom asleep in a nearby recliner. The TV was on, and when I focused on the screen, Beau was there, playing a game at the Shapiro Center, the Coyotes’ home ice.
Though I should have grabbed the remote and turned the channel, I couldn’t. The game was tied 1–1, and I felt a small thrill every time Beau had control of the puck. He moved up and down the ice as easily as if he were running, executing plays with his teammates without even needing to look at them.
“Beau Fox is on a hot streak,” one of the announcers said. “He’s scored at least one goal in the past three games. Let’s see if he keeps that streak going tonight.”