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)
“Oh.” He looks over at me and my eyes go down his body to his gym shorts, his T-shirt molding his whole body.
“Yeah, I don’t have a car and I didn’t even think about that.” I put my hands on the counter that separates us. “I should probably look at getting something now that I’m here.”
“You can take the SUV, and I’ll call my guy and get you something.” He immediately takes care of it.
“You don’t have to do that,” I counter and he looks over at me, leaning against the counter and sipping his drink. “You have enough going on.”
“I’ll take care of it, Ariella,” he reassures me, and I just nod to him, not sure what else to say. I don’t know what to do; I don’t know what to say. It’s fucking killing me inside to be this close to him, yet be so far away from him.
“I’m going to go and change, even though nothing fits me and I’ll have to wear yoga pants.”
“Take my card,” he suggests when I start to walk away and I look over my shoulder at him, “it’s in my wallet.”
“I don’t need your card,” I tell him at the same time I want to yell out, “I just need you. I just want you. I need you and only you and not your stupid-ass fucking card.” I want to yell through the rooftops, but I stop myself.
“Okay.” I can feel his eyes on me as I walk up the stairs toward our bedroom. It’s been two days since he admitted to me that his ex-girlfriend tampered with his condoms. Two fucking days of living with him and him barely saying a fucking word to me. Two fucking days of silently begging him to talk to me. Silently begging him to stop blaming himself. Silently watching him drown even more under the guilt. “Before I leave,” I say not sure why I’m even saying this now, but knowing that if I don’t say something, I’m literally going to go out of my mind, “if you want a get-out-of-jail card, you can have it.” He looks at me confused. “If this is too much for you or you’re having seconds thoughts, I won’t hold it against you.” I swallow down the bile that feels like it’s coming up my throat. His face looks even more ravished than it did before I said anything.
“I don’t ever want to be without you or the baby,” he says and all I do is nod at him. I can’t say a word because it’s all stuck in my throat. I walk upstairs to change, hearing his voice softly in my head telling me that he doesn’t want to be without me or the baby, but nothing else. He didn’t come to me, he didn’t tell me he loves me. Nothing. Just those words. I slip on a black long-sleeved bodysuit before grabbing a pair of gray sweatpants that are tight on the ankle and have a big elastic band, so the small baby bump is barely visible. I slip on my sneakers and then make my way to the bathroom where I brush out my hair. I walk back downstairs and hear him on the phone. “I want something safe,” he states, “definitely an SUV. I don’t want her bending to put the baby in the car seat.”
My phone buzzes and I look down to see Zoey is outside.
“She’s here.” I point to the door and he just nods his head at me, and I stand here not sure if I should go and kiss him goodbye or not.
“Okay.” He moves the phone away from his face. “Text me later to let me know what time you’ll be home. I have a game tonight.”
I nod, wanting to go and kiss him but then stopping myself when he turns away and continues the conversation. I walk out of the house and see Zoey there in her car, waving at me. I smile and blink away the tears, pulling open the door. “Hey.” I try to sound happy, but instead a sob comes out of me. I bury my face in my hands as the tears just pour out of me.
“Oh shit,” she says, “do I have to go in there?” She turns in her seat toward me and all I can do is shake my head. “Fuck.” She pulls away from the house and looks over at me.
“I’m fine,” I assure her, looking around for a Kleenex. I open the glove box and it’s empty, then I open the middle console and see it’s also empty. “How do you have a baby and you don’t have any napkins?”
“Because I have a baby,” she retorts, “I’m cleaning up all kinds of shit all the time. You know how fast I run out of those things. Besides, when I have the baby in the car, I have a diaper bag that holds all that stuff. But since I’m without the baby, the bag is not with me. Therefore—” I laugh and she extends her arm to me. “If you want to, wipe it on my shirt. I’m okay with that also. I’m used to it at this point.”