Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 79509 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79509 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
And like nothing had happened, she was withdrawn again.
I stared at her back for a moment before I rolled toward her, spooning her from behind. My hand moved across her stomach and rested there, on the slightly hard bump right where her belly button was located.
She quickly grabbed my hand and pulled it higher, right underneath her breasts.
My face was in her hair so I couldn’t see anything, but my eyes opened anyway.
Because I knew what I felt.
I knew exactly what my fingertips touched.
Everything hit me at once.
Her doctor’s appointment several weeks ago, the fact that she wouldn’t tell me what it was about.
That she never drank wine anymore.
She was cold and distant lately…moody.
She had a random aversion to fish.
Now her stomach…was different.
Jesus fucking Christ.
I rolled away, moving to my back, needing a moment to process what I’d just concluded.
She was pregnant.
I stared at the ceiling, my heart beating so fast that it felt like I was sprinting in place. I was warm from lovemaking, but now I sweated profusely. My palms were cold and clammy. There was so much adrenaline, so much stress.
Fuck.
Eighteen
Cleo
I had Patricia drop off Derek at Margo’s.
The nerves were killing me. The guilt was consuming me. Now I was wearing dresses because my skirts were just too tight. My body was changing, and if he hadn’t noticed already, he’d notice soon…and that was the worst way to find out.
My bag was already packed in his closet, so I could grab it and leave…if he asked me to.
Tucker said I could stay with him.
Tucker texted me. Good luck.
I ignored his text message that popped up on the coffee table. I sat on the couch, waiting for the sound of Deacon’s footsteps, the sound of the knob turning. I was so fucking scared. I was far more scared of this than living in my shady apartment in Brooklyn. This was the very place where he’d left me last time—and I was afraid it would happen again.
When we woke up this morning, he was really quiet, like he was irritated with the constant coldness I gave him. He didn’t even do his morning workout. He just got dressed and left, taking Derek with him while barely saying a few words to me.
My fear was affecting our relationship, so I may as well just tell him.
I was running out of time anyway.
His footsteps sounded.
“Oh god…oh god…oh god…”
The doorknob turned.
“Fuck.”
He stepped inside, set his bag on the entryway table, and hung up his coat.
I didn’t feel joy like I usually did when he came home. Now, I was terrified, like I wished he would leave and give me more time to suck up the courage.
He turned around and surveyed the condo. After a quick scan, he could read the energy, knew something was wrong. “Where’s Derek?”
“He’s with your mother for the evening… I wanted to talk.”
He stood still, looking down at me, his walls up. Now he was the one who was distant, like he didn’t want to come home as much as I didn’t want him there.
My hands were shaking. My voice was weak. I was so fucking nauseated. “Can we talk?” I could barely get the words out of my mouth. They were breaking in the middle of the sentence, and I even felt the muscles of my back twitch like I was freezing cold.
He stared at me for a hard minute before he moved to the couch and sat beside me. There was no affection. No kiss. He even left a few inches of space between us. His elbows were on his knees, his hands together. He didn’t look at me.
Our relationship was already over. I could feel it.
He was behaving the way he did when he ambushed me, when he was livid with me.
I hated this. So much. “I’m sure you’ve noticed how distant I’ve been…” My voice shook more, my lips started to quiver. Before I could control myself, tears sprang from my eyes, I started to shake harder, and I could barely talk at all.
He turned to me, giving me a whole different expression, full of concern. His eyes were wide as if my reaction caught him by surprise. He watched the tears pour down my cheeks, watched my arms and shoulders shake. “Baby…” His hand went to my thigh.
I wanted to defend myself, tell him it wasn’t deliberate, but I had to tell him the truth first. So, I just did it, because my body was breaking down and I was incapable of more than a few words at a time. “I’m pregnant…” I closed my eyes, more tears falling. “I didn’t do it on purpose…” I started to sob, my eyes opening, and I looked at my phone on the coffee table. “I swear, it was an accident. I don’t know how it happened. I need you to believe me… I would never, ever—”