Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 114068 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 570(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114068 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 570(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
But she does both during my appointment the next day, her eyes wandering to Duke over and over again as she bangs on the keyboard at the computer in our exam room.
“So you’re a real life cowboy, huh?” Her fingers pause over the keys.
Duke crosses his arms, his chambray button-up stretching across his wide shoulders. “Yes, ma’am, born and raised.”
She bites her lip. “I didn’t know y’all actually existed.”
“I assure you, we do. Someone’s gotta do the dirty work.”
Our nurse, Laura, stares. “I bet you do it right.”
“And you wear the jeans and the boots and…everything.” Dr. Martinez’s gaze flicks over his long legs, moving up to his glasses and the backward hat he’s wearing again today. “God bless America.”
“Amen,” Laura whispers.
To be fair, Duke does look especially delicious today. Being the thoughtful kinda-sorta gentleman he is, he packed an overnight bag for himself “in the off chance” I needed him to stay. And in that overnight bag was a pair of slim-fitting jeans and that fucking button-up, which he wears over a worn white T-shirt. It all looks so good on him I kind of want to scream.
Don’t get me started on the glasses.
He’s wearing a pair of square-toed, perfectly broken-in Ariat cowboy boots and a five-o’clock shadow that’s really growing on me—he said he forgot his razor. The man looks like an absolute snack.
I don’t know if it’s the low ceilings in the office or what, but he also looks enormous. Bigger than usual. They just don’t make them like this in Dallas: six two and handsome in a rugged, broad, deeply tanned way. He just looks so…capable, his big, strong body able to handle anything the day throws at him.
Hell, I’m having trouble not staring, and I’ve been with Duke all night and all morning. Literally. He fell asleep next to me in my bed, and when I woke up, he was smiling at me, his hair sticking up every which way.
“What?” I asked, nausea already rising through my center.
“You were snoring.”
I felt my face flush. “Shut up.”
“It was cute.”
“No, it wasn’t. Why are your eyes red?”
He squeezed them shut. “I forgot to take out my contacts. I didn’t mean to fall asleep—”
“It’s fine. Please tell me that means you’ll be wearing your glasses all day.”
He opened his eyes and his smile grew, showing me a flash of even, white teeth. “You really like the glasses, huh, Blue?”
I love them.
I might’ve orgasmed just watching him make me coffee in my kitchen while wearing the glasses (I messaged Dr. Martinez earlier this week about caffeine, and she assured me one cup of coffee per day is fine). He remembered how I took my coffee and then asked me not once, not twice, but three times if I was sure I didn’t want anything to eat. I swear the man was ready to run out for whatever I asked for.
A gal could get used to that kind of treatment.
Just like I could get used to having someone with me for what turns out to be an intense conversation. To her credit, Dr. Martinez is kind as she patiently walks us through our options.
In Texas, there aren’t many.
“Unfortunately, the laws in our state are such that you’d have to seek abortion care elsewhere.” I can tell she’s trying very hard not to roll her eyes. “New Mexico is going to be your closest option if you decide to go that route, which—let’s be honest—isn’t that close at all.”
I’ve followed the depressing developments in women’s health care over the years in the news, and I anticipated Dr. Martinez saying something along these lines. Still, I want to vomit. I ask for a barf bag, which Laura silently places in my hand.
But Duke doesn’t flinch at the word abortion. Instead, he takes my other hand and holds it while he listens as Dr. Martinez continues to fill us in.
At one point, he looks at me and says, “As luck would have it, Wheeler and I are excellent road trip buddies. I’d be up for another twenty-hour drive if that’s what she wants. My only request is that we don’t take a U-Haul this time.”
I crack a smile, even as my throat closes in. I’m about to cry, not because I’m upset this is happening, although I’m still pissed at myself. My boobs hurt so, so bad, which doesn’t help.
I’m about to cry because it’s really nice not to feel alone in any of it after days of trying to figure it out on my own. Duke is a steady, comforting presence, keeping my hand warm in the mitt of his. Leave it to him to make me smile during what might be the most difficult conversation I’ve ever had.
It’s all right. This sucks, but we’ll figure it out.
He doesn’t say the words. He doesn’t need to.