Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 113130 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 566(@200wpm)___ 453(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113130 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 566(@200wpm)___ 453(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
“Hi,” I return, wrapping my arm around her waist, “ready to head home?”
She nods her head, as I bend to kiss her quickly before putting her in the car and taking us home. “What do you usually do after a game?” she asks me as we step into the house and I take off my jacket.
“Eat and then just try to relax,” I tell her. “Usually sit outside and listen to the ocean.”
“Well, why don’t you go and relax and I can make you something to eat,” she offers, taking off the jersey and leaving her in a tank top and her tights.
“Or you can go sit down on that stool”—I point to the stool—“and talk to me while I warm up one of my premade meals.”
“Fine.” She moves to the stool and sits down. “Then we can go and sit outside while you eat.”
“That sounds like a plan.” I kiss her neck. “So how did you like the game?” I ask her and she smiles.
“It was fun. Zoey and Gabriella were there.” She mentions the other girl who was beside her.
“That’s who she was,” I state when the name clicks into place. “Dylan and Christopher’s sister.”
“Also, my father’s best friend’s daughter.” She puts her hand in front of her on the counter. “We’re going to have to talk about that.”
“What about?” I put my plate in the microwave, shutting the door and pressing the time.
“Well, she asked me what I was doing here.”
“What did you tell her?” I lean back on the counter, extending my arms to the sides as I cross my legs in front of me.
“I didn’t tell her anything. Zoey said we were banging each other.” I tilt my head to the side.
“She’s not wrong there.” I chuckle and see she’s not sure of what to say next. “We are definitely doing that. Very well, I might add.” I wink at her.
“Listen, I don’t know what this is,” she starts and the uncertainty in her voice has my blood going cold. “We probably wouldn’t even be here if I wasn’t pregnant.”
“You don’t know that.” I quickly stop her. “That one night we shared something.”
“Yeah, and then we went our separate ways,” she points out.
“Well, we live literally at the opposite ends of the country from each other,” I rebut. “If you lived closer, I would have called you.” Fuck, I thought about her enough in six weeks that I definitely would have caved and called her.
“Stop it.” She rolls her eyes. “You would not.”
“We’ll never know.”
“Exactly, we have to deal with the cards we were dealt and that is that we’re having a baby together.”
“We are.” I nod my head and she just looks at me. “What are you asking me, Ari?”
“I don’t know,” she responds honestly. “I don’t even know if there is a label we can give each other.”
“I mean, we’re together,” I remind her and her face goes into confusion. “Do you not think we are together?”
“That’s the thing, I don’t know.”
“Are you seeing someone else?” My finger taps the counter nervously as I feel this rage seep up into me. “Do you have someone else in New York?” I know she doesn't and even asking her the question is a bit insulting. Fuck, if anyone else should be doubting the other person, she should be doubting me. She showed up here and there was a woman wearing my T-shirt.
“I’m not even going to justify that with a fucking answer, Jaxon.” She pushes away from the counter. “I guess this answers the question, then.”
“Yeah, and what answer did you come up with?” I say angrily.
“That we’re friends”—she gets off the stool—“and we’ll leave it at that. We’re friends who are having a baby together. We aren’t the first ones to do it, and we aren’t going to be the last ones either.”
“Friends,” I repeat the word, and it tastes like bile in my mouth.
“We should make a plan to tell our parents,” she mentions and I nod my head because I don’t think I can say anything to her.
“You have to wait for the twelve weeks, don’t you?” I remind her. “And you are what, eight weeks now?”
“Not sure, I’m guessing I’m about maybe nine weeks.” She puts her hand to her stomach and her face goes white.
I stand up and watch her face as she turns and flies out of the room. I run after her as she gets to the bathroom and throws up. “Fuck,” I hiss, walking toward her.
“Can you give me privacy, please?” She puts her head on her arm on top of the toilet bowl as she vomits again.
“Absolutely not,” I finish as I walk out of the bathroom and head to the kitchen to grab her some water, listening to her vomit again. I grab a bottle of water and rush back to her, catching her in the middle of vomiting. “I got you some water.” I squat down beside her as she turns her face, and I see tears running down her cheeks. “Rinse out your mouth, baby,” I offer softly, the tightness in my chest making it feel like I have a noose around my neck that is getting tighter and tighter.