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)
“What’s in the red bag?”
“Oh.” I start digging through that bag. “I stopped by the pharmacy and got you a couple of things. But I don’t know if I have anything in here that will help with your vomiting.”
She frowns. “Did you tell anyone?” I shake my head. She holds on to the back of the chair as her head hangs.
“I just got all the things.”
“Good, that’s good.”
“Do you want to try to eat? You can sit, and I can maybe make you something. I went to the grocery store and picked up a couple of things for you.”
“A couple of things?” Her eyebrows go up. “I count about ten bags.”
“Okay, maybe more than a couple.” I laugh nervously. This morning, when I opened her fridge to make her breakfast, I noticed it wasn’t as full as I thought it should be. Her freezer was even more dire. Sure, she works a lot, but she should still have food in her fridge in case she wants to eat something.
“You bought me groceries,” she almost whispers, her eyes moving from one bag to the other.
“Just some fresh fruit and . . . a bit of pretty much everything really.” I shrug. “I mean, I also bought them for the baby,” I add, finding a bag of frozen veggies. “Do you want me to make you something? Or do you want to try and eat the burger?”
“I can try to eat,” she says.
A rustling sound comes from the side of the house. Her head whips to the window, and she moves over to close the small shades.
An uneasy feeling runs through me. She looks like she’s about to jump at any movement. She’s holding her hands to her side, but I can see they’re shaking as she walks back to the table. I know I should tread lightly, but my mouth has other plans. “Are you seeing someone?”
She stops mid-step. “What?” she asks, a confused look on her face.
“It’s just that”—I pull out a chair and sit down—“you’ve been looking outside since I got here, so I was wondering if you were seeing someone?”
She pulls out the opposite chair and sits down. “I’m not seeing anyone, Theo,” she replies softly. “Are you?”
“No,” I answer right away.
“I somehow . . .” she trails off as she reaches into the bag and pulls out a French fry. She hands me one of the burgers. “I somehow don’t believe that.”
My thumb taps the table. “I’ve never lied to you, Collins. Not once.” My eyes stare into hers. “And I’m not about to start now. I haven’t been in a relationship for the last year.”
“Not a man who wants to be tied down, then.”
“I didn’t say that.” I unwrap my burger. “I just said I haven’t had a relationship in a while.”
“I find that hard to believe.” She takes a small bite of her burger.
“Why aren’t you with anyone?”
She folds her arms on the table. “Because this is a very small town”—her voice is tight—“and everyone knows everyone.” I tilt my head to the side, not sure about what she is saying. “Not everyone wants their child to date someone from the wrong side of town.”
“The fuck?”
“With that being said, I don’t want the town to know about my pregnancy just yet.”
Something inside me squeezes, and I have so many fucking questions, but I know she’ll hold on to the information like Fort Knox. “We can keep it between us, for now,” I assure her, “but I’m going to want to tell my cousin.”
“I don’t know.”
I reach across the table and place my hand on top of hers. “I trust him with my life. And once you get to know him, you’ll see how trustworthy he is.”
She thinks about it for a second before she nods her head. “It’s good you have someone who will have your back like that.” The sadness in her voice makes me feel things I don’t think I’ve ever felt before. It’s pushing me out of my own comfort zone.
We eat the meal in silence and, once we finish, she helps put the groceries away. “You bought me so much food,” she remarks, shaking her head and trying to hide a yawn.
“I’ll get out of your hair so you can get some sleep. Can you do me a huge favor?”
“I think you are out of favors,” she jokes.
I must say, I really like this side of her. I got a glimpse of it when I fixed her tire, but I haven’t seen it since. I laugh and fold my arms over my chest.
“What is it?”
“Can you text me in the mornings, or when you get up and stuff? I just want to make sure you’re okay.” She looks down at her feet, blinking away tears. “When I found out you were sick, I sort of had a minor”—I hold my fingers together—“panic attack.”