Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 97409 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97409 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
The knocking grows louder. I look over to see the door opening, and then he steps in.
“Theo?” I ask. Maybe I’m delirious from throwing up.
He makes the five steps to my side. “Oh my god, are you sick?”
“No. What would make you say that? Would it be me barfing in the garbage, or would it be me barfing in the garbage?” He glares at me. “Who just lets themselves into someone’s house without being invited in?” I walk over to the sink and turn on the water to rinse my mouth.
“I thought I heard ‘Come in,’” he answers.
“That was me heaving.” The microwave beeps, telling me the food is ready, and I hold up my hand. “I need to brush my teeth.” I turn to walk to the bathroom. “Don’t follow me.”
“I wasn’t going to.” I give him a once-over and see that he’s wearing a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. It sucks like hell that he looks just as good as he did that first night I saw him. I grab my toothbrush and squeeze toothpaste on it. “Your father’s here,” I whisper as I wet my toothbrush and put it in my mouth. “I’m going to need you to be on your best behavior so he knows I can do this, even if he doesn’t want me to.” I brush my teeth and then rinse my mouth. “I expect you to help me out here a little.”
I turn and walk back out of the bathroom and see him opening the bottom cupboard under the sink. “What are you doing?” I ask. He looks over at me. I notice his beard has grown in more.
“I took out the trash that you got sick in.” He grabs a black garbage bag and shakes it out before putting it in the bin. “Figured you didn’t want it to be sitting there.”
“Um,” I’m unsure of what to say. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. It’s the least I can do.”
“What are you doing here?” I cross my arms over my chest. “It’s the middle of the night.”
“Yeah.” He goes back to the sink to wash his hands. “I knew you finished at 3:00 a.m., so I went to bed early and set my alarm.”
I blink once, twice, maybe a hundred times before I say, “You set your alarm to come to my house in the middle of the night?”
“Well, it was either come here”—he shakes the water from his hands—“or show up at your work.” I balk. “I figured it would be an easier conversation to have without your coworkers listening in.”
“Well, you’re right about that.” I walk to the microwave and open it. “Sorry, but I missed dinner, and all I had was a protein bar, so I’m starving.” He’s looking at the wooden table with six chairs. The table has seen better days, but a good sanding and a beautiful varnish would make it brand-new. It’s on my list of things to do, but the list is always getting longer and longer.
“Do you want something to drink?” he asks as if I’m the guest in his house and not the other way around.
“I was going to have water.” He looks at me. “There’s a pitcher in the fridge.”
He walks over to grab the pitcher as I sit and start to eat a piece of chicken. I’m hyperaware that he’s here, and I’m pretty sure he’s judging fucking everything. He opens one cupboard, probably looking for a glass. “They’re in that one.” I point with my fork to the cabinet beside the sink. He grabs a glass and comes back to the table, putting it down and filling it with water. “It’s a hundred degrees in here.” He pulls out a chair and sits down.
“Yeah, it’ll cool down soon. I should have passed by on my shift and opened the windows to get a good breeze going, but . . .” I take another bite of chicken. “Theo,” I ask when I swallow, “what are you doing here, for real?”
“Collins,” he says, putting one of his hands on the table while he drapes his other arm across the chair beside him, “I think we need to talk, don’t you?”
“I mean,” I take another bite, “I pretty much said what I needed to say today.”
“You would be wrong there. There is a lot to talk about.”
“Might as well get it over with,” I mumble. Suddenly, I’m not hungry, but I know I have to eat. I make myself take another bite of the chicken.
“When did you find out you were pregnant?”
“Three weeks ago. Woke up one day and got my period, or what I thought was my period, but it was just spotting for two days and then nothing.” I shrug. “I figured it was stress. But then”—I close my eyes—“God, this is embarrassing.” Instead of letting me off the hook, he waits for me to finish. “My nipples hurt, okay? Like so bad.”