Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 87181 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87181 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
“I’m sorry, stop, slow down.” I waved my free hand in the air as my brain tried its hardest to process what was happening. “Last week, we had positive pregnancy tests. We came in to get a blood test to confirm it, which we did. Then a few weeks later, you’re telling us there’s no baby? But instead, it’s cancer?”
The doctor frowned. His frown pissed me off. His frown felt like an apology for something that wasn’t true. It couldn’t be true. It couldn’t…
He cleared his throat. “Mr. Kane, I know this is a lot to take in—”
“How serious is it?” Penelope cut in.
The doctor’s grimace deepened.
I was going to throw up.
“We need to get treatment started as soon as possible,” he explained.
Tears began rolling down Penelope’s cheeks. I forced mine to stay put. I couldn’t fall apart when my wife needed me most. I moved in closer and wrapped my arms around her, holding her close. “It’s okay,” I whispered into her ear as her emotions spilled out against my shoulder. “I got you.”
HOLLY
Present Day
I got three stitches in my hand yesterday afternoon after going on a non-date with a guy who called me wide. That summed up how my life was currently panning out.
The terrible previous day should’ve been a sign to cancel my lunch date with my mother, but I knew if I did cancel said plans, she’d worry and randomly show up at my apartment.
“My goodness! Sweetheart, it’s been too long!” Mom rushed to me in the café and wrapped her arms tightly around me. I melted into her motherly embrace. She was right. It had been too long since I’d returned home to visit. I was in desperate need of a hug from my mom. I’d been hard at work on my upcoming novel, which meant I went heavy into hermit crab mode. By “hard at work,” I meant I’d been staring at a blank page for twelve hours a day, wondering why my brain decided it was allowed to have writer’s block for almost a year.
Cassie had already revealed her first solo project to the world while I was in the depths of writer’s block. It didn’t seem fair at all.
“What happened to your hand?” Mom asked, stunned as she pulled away from me and noticed my injury.
“I cut it. It’s fine. Just a few stitches.”
“Oh, sweetie, you have to be more careful. Why didn’t you call me when you got hurt? I could’ve helped. I am a doctor, after all.”
“Yeah, you are, but being a veterinarian isn’t the same as working in urgent care, Mom. Besides, it’s fine. Let’s sit down.” I sat at the table, not wanting to dive deeper into my injury. I was already a bit grumpy about it, seeing how I couldn’t comfortably write for a while.
As if the words are effortlessly flowing, Holly.
“How are things with Barry?” she asked as she untangled the Burberry scarf from around her neck. My mother was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. Supermodels had nothing compared to the beauty of Lisa Jackson. She recently had a silk press performed on her naturally curly hair. It was long, straight, and shiny, dangling down her lower back.
I blinked a few times as her words filled my head.
Who? I thought to myself.
No, truly. Who the heck was Barry?
“Hmm?” I asked as I rubbed my earlobe, pretending I didn’t hear her clearly as my brain went into overdrive.
“You know, Barry. The engineer. You were so excited about him the last time we talked.”
Oh crap.
That guy.
My mother’s eyes were wide with hope. If there was one thing about Mom, it was that she was a lover of love. Maybe that was where I got the addiction to it, too, to the point where I’d made a career out of it. Yet unlike me, my mom had been married for over fifty years to her high school sweetheart. My parents were the definition of, “What the heck? That doesn’t happen unless it’s a fictional reality”.
My love for love characteristic came from my parents. I wondered if I could sue them for pain and damage to the reality of dating.
I didn’t know how to break my mother’s heart again with my dating adventures since Daniel walked out on me. Barry happened so long ao, it seemed. He was back in June. Since Barry, I’d been through six—yes, count it, six—more dating fiascos with six more letdowns. I thought with me living in a city like Chicago, I’d be able to find at least one good guy to date, but no.
It was called the windy city for a reason—men blew in and out of my life at record speeds.
Gosh, was his name Barry? Of all the names out there, I picked to date a man named Barry. Did I truly think my soul mate would be a man named Barry?