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)
“Hi, you’ve reached Collins. Leave me a message.” I wait for the beep and then actually leave a message.
“Hey, I just picked up some burgers. I’m on my way over. I just have to make a quick stop before I get there,” I tell her. “If you get this before I get there, call me and let me know if you need anything.” I disconnect before heading to the pharmacy, not knowing what I’m going to get. I don’t know what she’s sick with. I walk down aisle by aisle, grabbing random things and putting them in the basket. I don’t even know if she can take half of these since she’s pregnant. If I ask the pharmacist, five people would know I’m having a kid by the time I get to her house. Grabbing some Gatorade and then some chips and a couple of snacks, I head to the cash register.
“Did you find everything you were looking for?” the lady asks me. I place the basket on the counter. “I guess so,” she jokes. “It looks like you have one of everything.” She starts to scan the items. “You know if you talk to the pharmacist, he can maybe guide you to a specific thing.”
“I’m good.” I tap my credit card when she tells me the total.
Once I pull out of the parking lot, I call her again. I expect her not to answer, but after the third ring, she picks up. “Hello.” Her voice is low.
“Collins,” I say her name as if it’s the only thing in my vocabulary. I don’t even know why I let out a sigh of relief from just hearing her fucking voice. “I—” I start as I pull up to a stop sign, and wait a second before moving ahead. “You’re sick.”
“I’m fine.” Her tone sounds like she’s tired and something else I can’t put my finger on. “I’m going to go back to bed.”
“Did you eat anything?”
“Um, no,” she admits. “I’m going to eat something now and then go to bed. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Not going to happen. I’ll be there in thirty minutes, maybe less. I have something for you to eat, and I got you a couple of things.”
She sighs. “I’m exhausted and I don’t have the energy to argue with you.”
“So stop arguing,” I retort. “See you soon.”
It takes me fourteen minutes to get to her house, and when I pull up, there is light coming from the inside. I grab the bags and feel the second step pop up a bit on my way to the front door. I make a mental note to fix it, then debate whether I should knock or just walk in. Reluctantly, I rap on the door, put down the bags, and go back to get the groceries from the truck. She pulls open the door and watches me walk back up the steps. Her hair is wrapped in a towel, and I can see the droplets of water on her neck.
“Hi,” I say, walking past her. She takes a second to look outside before following me to the kitchen. “Don’t close the door, I’m not done.”
She stares at me with a confused look on her face. I head back to the truck four more times. Each time she watches from the doorway, wringing her hands nervously. Her eyes dart around, as if she’s expecting someone to jump out. When I finally finish emptying my truck, she searches the darkness one time before shutting the door and locking it as I start unpacking the groceries.
“Are you still not feeling good?”
“I’m feeling a bit better.” Her face is pale, and her eyes are a darker shade of gray than I’ve ever seen. “But I still don’t have the energy.” She looks out the kitchen window, then over my shoulder toward the door.
“What’s wrong?” I start emptying the next bag.
“Just regular pregnancy things,” she deflects. “What is all this?”
“Do me a favor, since I don’t know what regular pregnancy things are, just tell me what’s wrong.”
“I woke up and started throwing up,” she says softly, “and it didn’t stop for a while.” My breath hitches. “I’m fine now, I think. I took some electrolytes to help me not dehydrate.”
“Did you call the doctor?” I wonder if we should maybe go to the emergency room.
“I did, and I have to go and see them tomorrow.” She hesitates. “The appointment is at eight in the morning. It’s the earliest I could get, and it’ll give me a chance to relax before I have to go in for my shift.”
“I’ll pick you up at seven, and then we can go have breakfast before.”
“You don’t need to do that.” Her voice is soft.
“I got you a burger.” I point to the brown bag that now has grease stains forming at the base. “But now I don’t think you should eat it.”