Total pages in book: 43
Estimated words: 39947 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 200(@200wpm)___ 160(@250wpm)___ 133(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 39947 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 200(@200wpm)___ 160(@250wpm)___ 133(@300wpm)
Our. He said our.
God, I’m not one of your strongest soldiers, because I will clearly let this man knock me up again, and in the next fifteen minutes if he continues being this dreamy.
I also couldn’t deny the shift in Grant’s behavior since the day he’d found out I was expecting. It felt like he was less dry, less guarded. Like he was showing me parts of him I never knew existed.
He opened the door for me, and I walked to the elevator bank and hit the second floor button. My stomach cramped again. It’d been like that for days.
“I hate to admit it, but I’m still super constipated.” I felt my cheeks heat. It sucked to talk to him about my mundane, unglamorous pregnancy issues, especially when the Jessicas of the world vied for his attention, but he was a doctor and I wanted his take on it. “I’m going on, like, four days without.”
“Are you usually regular?” His tone was businesslike, not a trace of awkwardness in his features.
Still. How was I going to come back from this conversation? He was never going to want to have sex with me again.
Which is a good thing, Layla. You changed a phase. You’re no longer fuck buddies. To keep this healthy and constructive, all you’ll ever be is coparents.
“Every morning,” I confirmed. “Before I hop into the shower. My body is like clockwork. Was, anyway.”
“Have you tried laxatives?”
“Yes. And oatmeal. And prune juice. Nothing works.”
“I’ll prescribe you something stronger if your ob-gyn budges on it.” He jerked his chin with a nod.
“I think that’s the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for me.” I put a hand to my heart as the elevator door opened. Unfortunately, it wasn’t a lie.
“I don’t know if I should be mad or not that the bar is this low.” Grant flashed me a teasing smirk. “Less work for me; then again, fuck those other dudes for not trying their hardest.”
I thought back to when Grant had asked me to marry him. The truth was, I was 89 percent sure it wasn’t a joke. He’d really meant it. But just as I was sure that he was serious, I was also sure it had come from a place of wanting to do the right thing. He was the kind of guy who dedicated his life to helping others. He always did the right thing.
After I’d filled out two trees’ worth of paperwork at the reception area and peed into a cup, Grant and I were ushered into an examination room. The room was cold and dark, and there was a flat-screen LED TV connected to an ultrasound machine. A nurse took my vitals and weight, then finally, Dr. Horwitz walked in.
“Hello, Ms. Schmi . . . Dr. Gerwig!” she exclaimed.
She and Grant apparently knew each other from med school. There were hugs and a what-a-small-world conversation before she remembered I was there, mostly naked, with a bare-assed, overbleached robe. Then we dove into another session of my telling her how I felt, when was the last time we had sex, etc. If Dr. Horwitz was surprised to learn I was pregnant with Grant’s baby, she didn’t show it. She knew I was single from my annual Pap smears. We discussed our mutual dissatisfaction with the New York dating pool often.
“So, are we ready to see your baby?” She clapped her hands excitedly.
“Ready since I was about eighteen.” Grant grinned.
“You knew you wanted kids even as a teenager?” I whipped my head to look at him from the examination table. “Why does that not surprise me?”
“Yeah.” Pink tinted Grant’s chiseled cheekbones. “I have three siblings. I always thought I’d go the pediatric route, actually. For med school.”
I didn’t know that about him. All I knew was that back in the day, he seemed very serious and marriage oriented, which was why I’d broken things off with him. But after we’d reconnected and started sleeping together, he didn’t give me serious vibes anymore. I had assumed he’d changed gears as his career became more demanding.
“What made you choose oncology, then?” I frowned.
“I lost my grandpa to cancer when I did my undergrad degree,” he explained. “Colon. It was fast. Two weeks. He helped raise my siblings and me, since our parents had very demanding careers, also as doctors. It changed the fabric of who I was. My entire personality.”
“I’m so sorry,” I choked out, realizing for the first time that there was so much I didn’t know about this man, and how badly I wanted to get to know him.
I’d always wanted to get to know him better. To learn every nook and cranny in his soul. But it was easier not to when I could keep him at arm’s length. Now that we were embarking on this journey, I could no longer run away from catching feelings toward him. Could no longer hide.