Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 64320 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 322(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 214(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64320 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 322(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 214(@300wpm)
I mutter softly, “I would be stupid to take him back.”
Jules smirks at me as she says, “We’ve all done stupid things. Haven’t we?”
She continues the conversation as she stands, letting the throw fall to the floor so she can stretch her back and adds, “Besides, forgiveness isn’t stupid, and neither is love.” She speaks so confidently and in a lighthearted tone as if they’re so obviously true.
“Can I beat the crap out of him first?” I peek up at her with a half grin, feeling a bit upbeat just from her being with me. She’s a damn good friend and I hope one day I have the chance to be as good of a friend back to her as she is to me.
“I think I’ll allow it,” she responds as her own smile grows.
Mason’s footsteps can be heard approaching from down the hall. He’s not quiet in the least and part of me wonders if he wants us to know he’s coming. “Sweetheart?” he calls out and we both turn to the open doorway before he enters.
“You wanna come to bed?” he asks Jules, bracing his hands on either side of the door jamb before leaning just his upper half into the room. Like he’s checking to see if he’s welcome.
“I don’t know,” Jules answers him, but her last word is distorted by a yawn. She’s never been a night owl.
“Go to bed, I’ll be fine,” I tell her, knowing darn well she’s only staying up for my sake. I wave her off. “I’m tired too.”
“It might be silly,” Jules says as Mason strolls toward her and wraps his arm around her waist, “but I’m really happy you’re here.”
“Thanks,” I reply and mean it. Such a simple admission makes my heart swell. That’s how badly I need someone right now. “I’m lucky I have you,” I tell her. “And I guess you too,” I say to Mason, suddenly feeling awkward that he’s in the mix of this chick lovefest.
“You staying up?” he asks me.
“Nah, I’m exhausted. I think I’m just going to watch something and pass out.”
“I can stay up with you,” Jules offers, and her voice is even peppy. She’s eager to help me, but she’s not the one I need.
“I’m good. Seriously,” I tell her easily and for a moment I think I will be when she yields and they say good night. As their footsteps slowly quiet to nothing, the television proves useless as a distraction, because the memories of what happened only nights ago come flooding back. It all haunts me, refusing to let go.
How I opened my heart to Evan, when it was raw and damaged from his doing.
How accepted I felt when he said he was happy we were having a baby. Not just accepted, but complete and whole and like everything was going to be better than okay.
How loved I felt when he held me and kissed me.
How I didn’t want to be anything other than his when he laid me down in bed.
I think that’s the part that hurts the most. I would give up everything to just be his.
And he can’t be bothered to text me back. Not even today, and I really could have used his support today. It was hard enough to keep my composure for the full two hours. I didn’t say anything the entire time. But on the way back home, I felt a pair of eyes on me. It was like a prickle at the base of my neck, like a sixth sense that told me someone was following me.
I hailed a cab and texted Evan immediately. It was out of habit more than anything else.
I was probably just crazy with paranoia and all the hormones and raging emotions coming with the pregnancy. At least I’m honest with Evan, open and raw. If nothing else I’m giving him everything I have to offer. He can’t even send me a reassuring text.
Absently my hand falls to my belly. It’s been doing that. Reminding me that there’s another small life in the mix. I focus on taking deep breaths in and out. More than anything, I need to stay calm.
I pick up my phone, intent on texting everything.
He can ignore me all he wants, but I’m going to tell him everything I feel. I deserve that much. To at least be able to tell him what’s on my mind. I’m not the one who keeps secrets. I’m not perfect, I text him. I’m slowing down at work. I have to, I’m so tired. I love being pregnant, though. I love knowing we’re going to have a baby.
I’m afraid I’m hurting him by being this way. I don’t know how to get better, though.
I delete the last two lines and stare at the ceiling as tears threaten to come.