Total pages in book: 235
Estimated words: 227851 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1139(@200wpm)___ 911(@250wpm)___ 760(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 227851 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1139(@200wpm)___ 911(@250wpm)___ 760(@300wpm)
“Fuck,” I blurt in disbelief, holding my head with both hands, staring at her wilting frame. “Ava, are you trying to get me sectioned?” I have to look away from her, can’t bear to see her looking so pitiful. I also can’t bear the cold, hard fact that she’s been so deceitful about something she absolutely knows I want and need. “Are you fucking with my mind, because I really don’t need this, lady.” I laugh. It’s a cold laugh. Or . . . wait. Has she just found out? Was it a faulty test at the doctor’s office? Did she do another? Maybe she didn’t lie to me. “I’ve just gotten my head around you not being pregnant, and now you are?”
“I always have been.”
My God. No. How could she? I don’t even know what to say. She’s pregnant, always has been? I knew it. I fucking knew it! “When were you going to tell me?” I ask, staring at the woman I love, unable to convince myself to comfort her.
“When I accepted it.”
So she’s accepted it? Does that mean she’s happy about it? Fuck, my head feels like it’s going to fall off. “We’re having a baby?” I whisper. I think I’m in shock, because nothing in me is moving except my lips, emotion clogging my throat. Is this another chance? Is this really happening?
Yes, Daddy. I’m happy for you. The universe had other plans for me.
My weak knees give up on me, folding, taking me down to the gravel, and Ava is suddenly in front of me, her watery eyes scanning mine as she pulls me into her body and hugs me.
Life.
More life than I ever dreamed I was worthy of having again.
Ava’s. Our child’s.
And mine.
I lift my dead arms and hold her, squeezing my eyes closed, squeezing all of the tears out. This is my weakest moment. From now, I’m nothing but strength.
“I’m so sorry,” she sobs against my neck, her tears trickling down my skin past the collar of my shirt, as I silently stare at the gates of The Manor past her.
And hold onto her tighter.
Another chance.
Another life.
17
The ride home is silent. I expect if I was even remotely with it, I’d sense it’s uncomfortable, but I’m not. Nowhere close. I never once considered how I would actually feel to have it confirmed Ava’s carrying my child. Our child. Not really. I think I probably imagined, but never truly considered the reality of it. And hearing her say the words I’m pregnant? It’s like a deluge of emotions have drowned me—every emotion imaginable. The most prolific?
Disbelief.
I’m confused when we walk in and find Cathy. Then my mind reboots, and I remember it’s early afternoon. Ava should be at work. I should be killing time waiting for six o’clock when I can follow her back to our bubble. But today, we’re here, and I honestly can’t remember anything before her heartbreaking call. I shake my head and look down at my hands. My keys and Ava’s bag in one, Ava’s hand in the other.
I release my hold of her, feeling her look up at me, and set my keys on the table.
“Is everything okay?” Cathy asks, the caution in her tone screaming. I must look like I’ve seen a ghost. I feel oddly vacant, like I’m not sure how I’m supposed to react, feel, or be, all the emotions swirling around, mixing things up. I look at Ava’s bag in my grasp again, frowning as I pass it to her. “Boy?” Cathy prompts.
“Everything is fine,” I reply, though I know it doesn’t appear so, and despite not being able to look at Ava, I know she won’t seem okay either. “Ava’s not feeling too well.” My hand lifts of its own volition and encourages her toward the stairs. I need a moment alone. I never dreamt I would ever feel like that when Ava’s around me. Never alone.
She resists my light push into her back, her worried eyes looking back at me as she accepts her bag. “Are you coming?” she asks, but I still can’t look at her. I’m scared about what I’ll see. My wife. A liar. She knowingly set out to hurt me. It just doesn’t compute.
“I’ll be up in a minute,” I say, my throat rough and quiet. “Go.” She’s hesitant and unsure, but she slowly walks away, having a brief moment with Cathy. I don’t know what to say. All I can hear is my inner mind telling me this isn’t true. That I’ve heard things. That Ava’s not pregnant, that she’s going to scream at me at any moment that she hates me, that I want a baby more than I want her. I know that’s crossed her mind before. I know she’s wondered why I stole her pills.
And I know I should give her some context and work hard to make her see I’ve not done this on a whim.