Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 62266 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 311(@200wpm)___ 249(@250wpm)___ 208(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62266 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 311(@200wpm)___ 249(@250wpm)___ 208(@300wpm)
"It's her superpower." A whiff of the smoke and burnt muffin assaults me, making my stomach turn. “Oh noes.” I put my hand over my mouth and run toward the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet before I’m throwing up.
Marks is there a second later, running a washcloth under the water to hand to me. I press it to my mouth.
“That’s the third time this week.” Marks rests her hip up against the sink counter. I shake my head no. Not to her count of three but to what she is getting at. “Denying what this might be doesn’t make it go away.”
“Not today.” I drop the cloth into the sink before heading toward my room to use that bathroom to brush my teeth. Of course Marks follows me.
“Have you talked to him at all?”
“No, why would I?” I start brushing my teeth aggressively.
“Okay, your gums didn’t pop your cherry and maybe impregnate you. Take it easy on them.” I snort a laugh, which I’m pretty sure is what Marks was going for. “Can I go get a test now?”
“This whole town will know then,” I remind her.
We’d found the cutest villa in a charming small town on the coast. Since it’s so tiny, everyone knows everyone and their business. Half of the homes are vacation homes here.
“They’ll think it’s mine.”
“They’ll think you went and cheated on me.” We’re pretty sure a few locals think Marks and I are a couple.
“Good, they could use something to gossip about. I enjoy stirring the pot.”
“At least we can’t burn that pot,” I say, leaving the bathroom to grab my shoes.
I might have thrown up, but I’m still going to Karen’s for breakfast. That woman can cook, and this town doesn't have DoorDash or fast food. We had not thought of these things before renting this place.
“Don’t be so sure about that. We can burn just about anything.”
“Isn’t that the truth,” I mutter. “Plus, you shouldn’t stir the pot if you’re in said pot.”
“I can’t.” Marks throws her hands up. “I have to know. You could be knocked up. Then what? Should you even be standing?” My brows lift. I’m pretty sure she’s fucking with me, but I can never be sure with her. “What? I know shit about babies or pregnancy.”
“Fine, but I’m eating first.” There is no point in telling her no. Marks is worse than I am with listening. She’ll sneak and do it.
“Are we going to eat or what?” Marks is ready to get this show on the road, which would be her shoving whatever breakfast Karen made for us down her throat as quickly as possible, which will again get us in trouble. I’m in enough trouble as it is.
“What if I’m pregnant?” I finally say the words out loud. I think I already know the answer to whether I am or not, but I haven’t allowed myself to really think too much about it. I probably need to know for sure sooner rather than later. Especially if I get to use it as an excuse not to stand.
“You scared? Babies are creepy looking. Especially when they come out.” I laugh out loud because Marks is absolutely ridiculous.
“I’m not scared of the baby.” I have always wanted a family.
While my family isn’t typical, we are still all close, and my dad adored my mom. Even in our world, their relationship wasn't the norm. Despite the arranged nature of their relationship, they were deeply in love. That wasn’t the case usually.
I want love too, and I feel as though they got lucky. I don’t know of any other arranged marriages in the families around us where the couples are truly in love. It’s why when my brother War took over, I begged him to never make me marry against my will. He’d made me that promise. It is because of my parents that I want that kind of love and babies of my own one day. It is a dream.
“Do you want the baby?"
"Yes!" I rush to say. I am also scared of the possibility that I might not be pregnant. That's why the test as a whole freaks me out altogether. "I know it's stupid or silly, but I have always wanted a family of my own."
"Why is that stupid?" Marks asks.
I shrug. "Because it's old school-ish? I'm supposed to want to further my education and whatever else.” I wave my hand around.
"Who said you should do any of that? I didn't even go to college, and I was homeschooled." Marks’ childhood, from the pieces I’ve put together, was different than any I've ever known before.
"That's part of it. Where I come from, girls don't go to college; you get married and have babies, but I was given the choice to go to college." And I didn't want it. Although it kept me occupied and I didn't despise it. However, I missed home but felt compelled to stay, so I did.