Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 83216 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83216 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
For just a moment, I stare as a knot forms in my throat.
I’m not that woman.
I never wanted to be that woman.
My dreams were about independence. Control. About building something no one could take away from me. It wasn’t about diapers and midnight feedings. I don’t want to rely on a man who never promised me anything.
The cashier doesn’t bother looking up as he slides the boxes into a plastic bag with practiced indifference. I hand over my card with clammy fingers and then clutch the bag like contraband the second it’s in my possession.
Outside, I barely feel the wind as it slices through my wool coat.
By the time I reach my apartment, my insides are wound tight, my thoughts a tangled roar in my ears. I shut the door and lean against it, willing the world to stop spinning for a few minutes. Just long enough to take this test and reassure myself I’m not pregnant. My breasts ache as I shrug off my jacket. It’s a dull, insistent throb that makes me wince.
Stress.
That’s all this is.
At least, that’s what I tell myself as I rip open the first box, the cardboard tearing under my nails.
The directions are simple. Pee, wait, look. My hands continue to shake as I unwrap the plastic stick, do what needs to be done, and set it on the counter. The timer on my phone glows beside it.
A silent countdown.
Three minutes that feel more like an eternity.
I pace the cramped area of the bathroom with my arms crossed, all the while bargaining with the universe.
It’ll be negative.
It has to be.
Tomorrow, I’ll laugh about this.
Seconds crawl by.
Thirty. Twenty-nine. Twenty-eight.
When the timer chimes, I flinch so hard my phone nearly hits the floor. My stomach hollows and I press a hand to it, as if that’ll be enough to hold myself steady.
And then I look.
Two pink lines stare back at me, impossible to deny.
Air rushes from my lungs as the world tilts again. When my knees threaten to buckle, I grab the edge of the counter to steady myself.
“No, no, no…” The thin, broken sound tumbles out as the test trembles in my hand.
I’m pregnant.
The truth roars through me until it’s impossible to think about anything else.
I’m pregnant with Oliver “Big O” Van Doren’s child.
I sink to the floor and my back hits the cool cabinet, my legs refusing to hold me up any longer.
I should’ve known better.
Tears sting my eyes, but they don’t fall. I press both palms to my face, pulling in air until the panic loosens its grip.
A memory surfaces of my mom standing in the doorway the night Dad left, her voice steady while her hands shook.
This is why you take care of yourself, Rina. Because no one else will do it for you.
Maybe she was right.
Maybe that’s what this is.
The universe reminding me to never let anyone close enough to break me.
Except… I already have.
I glance at the test again, the lines bright and bold under the harsh lights.
And the worst part?
Somewhere deep inside, buried under the icy panic clawing at my chest, there’s a whisper that refuses to be silenced. A fragile truth I don’t want to acknowledge.
A piece of me will always belong to him. And vice versa. We will forever be entangled.
I sit on the cold tile long after the timer stops chiming, the test still clutched in my hand.
When my phone buzzes again, I glance at it.
Oliver’s name glows on the screen like a ghost I want to hide from. Instead of responding, I flip it over, silencing the vibration, and press a palm against my stomach.
I just need a little bit of time.
To think.
To figure out how to tell the man who can ruin me with a single look that everything in our lives is about to change.
24
Oliver
I rap my knuckles against Rina’s apartment door again, a little louder this time in the quiet hallway.
Does she really think she can ignore me?
That I’ll walk away like none of this matters?
Not a chance.
“Come on, Rina. Open the door,” I plead.
“Go away.” Her response is muffled through the metal, but the edge in it still cuts clean through me.
“Absolutely not, babe.” Frustration crashes over me as I rest my forehead against the cool surface, willing her to open up. “I’m not leaving until we talk about this like rational adults.”
When a door creaks open across the hall, I glance over to see an older woman poking her head out. Her eyes widen at the sight of me looming outside Rina’s apartment like an unhinged stalker.
I lift my chin in greeting, trying to appear calm. “How’s it going?”
Her brows fly up, lips pursing before she vanishes back inside almost as quickly as she appeared. The loud snick of her deadbolt sliding into place is unmistakable.
“Your neighbor says hello,” I mutter.