Total pages in book: 161
Estimated words: 154890 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 774(@200wpm)___ 620(@250wpm)___ 516(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 154890 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 774(@200wpm)___ 620(@250wpm)___ 516(@300wpm)
His delighted chuckle follows me all the way up the steps.
“I have news,” he announces happily a few minutes later as he slides into the cream leather seat opposite mine. “Jody just had the babies. Polly sent me a text.”
“Oh.” My heart melts a little at the news. Babies are such a blessing, as my mother always says. “And everything went okay?”
“I think so. Polly sounded pretty ecstatic, so I imagine they have ten fingers and ten toes apiece. I’m just waiting to see where her mind goes from here.”
“Gosh, Whit. She’s only just had her babies. She won’t be thinking about coming back to work.”
“I wasn’t talking about Jody,” he scoffs. “I was talking about Polly and her granny lust. Jody’s husband is from up north somewhere,” he adds contemplatively as he fastens his seat belt. “I’m banking on his parents not being around so much. Which, in turn, will give Polly a foot in the door. Everyone loves pseudo granny. She’ll be another willing pair of hands. Because the alternative,” he says, fixing me with a look, “isn’t pretty. Especially when we tell her we’re together.
“Polly is a granny without grandchildren. I am her eldest son, and you are my girlfriend and she loves you, so don’t think it’ll be just me she makes puppy dog eyes at.”
“But you don’t want children.”
“I never said that.” His reply bypasses my brain and drops to my stomach like a lead weight.
“But you never wanted a girlfriend.”
“I never said that I wasn’t interested in settling down, just that I wasn’t making much effort to.” His mouth twists humorously. “There you go sprinkling glitter on red flags again.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about?”
“What kind of thirty-six-year-old man says he has no interest in settling down? Not everyone wants kids, but everyone wants to be loved, don’t they?”
I didn’t set out to be loved by Whit. I should have allowed it. Just a few moments ago, I was basking in his attention, feeling happy and lucky and all kinds of blessed. Terrified too, because of the things I have to confess. But I told myself it was worth it. More than that, I told myself to be worthy of him. There was no other way. And now I’m looking at him and wondering if my chance is about to slip away. Wondering if I’m brave enough to ask him.
“I know it’s early in our relationship, but do you want kids?”
I’m not the girl for him. It was good to fool myself for a little while.
My heart suddenly breaks. It’s not a misfiring of electrical signals like I’d been led to expect, but a snap, clean and loud like the break of a stem.
“I’ve never really given it any thought.” My answer is rote, and I wouldn't be surprised if the jet drops out of the sky.
Karma.
There was a short period just recently when I thought of little else, a time I’d investigated all that science had to offer, including gene therapy. Ultimately, if I struggled to accept my fate, then…
No. I can’t go through this again.
“You seem deep in thought.”
At Whit’s concerned words, I lift my head and pray my smile is more bright than brittle. “I guess this weekend was a lot to take in.”
“Is this where I’m supposed to say that’s what she said?”
Is it wrong to be hurt that he doesn’t see through me? I guess I’m being unfair because I’ve never been the real me with him.
40
WHIT
We get back to City Airport, where George is waiting to take us home. Though it’s been barely twenty-four hours since we left, it feels like a lifetime has passed. But in a really good way.
We stop for sushi before dropping Mimi back to the apartment. I have to meet Beckett for an hour at Motcombs because he’s off to New York next week.
“I won’t be long,” I tell her, pulling her body flush with mine outside of my building. “Don’t eat it all.” I tap the lid of the sushi box.
“I won’t.”
Pressing my forefinger under her chin, I lift her gaze to mine. “You okay?”
“Just tired.” She gives a tiny shrug. “All that walking yesterday, I guess.”
I also kept her up last night, not that either of us would complain about that.
I watch her walk into the building and don’t get back into the Bentley until she crosses the foyer, disappearing around a corner. As I pull the door closed, I suffer what I can only describe as a contraction deep in my chest. It’s a physical sensation with an emotional cause: the sense that something isn’t right.
“Belgravia, wasn’t it, guvnor?” My eyes meet George’s in the rear view mirror and I nod.
“Yeah, Motcombs. I’ll only be an hour.”
“Right you are,’ he says, pulling out into the traffic.
I find myself rubbing my chest with my knuckles. She’s just tired, I repeat to myself.