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)
“Layla’s beef with men is as bitter as mine with Maddie’s underwear,” Chase conceded, tapping the side of his beer bottle. “But take it from someone with a pregnant wife and a kid—her feelings toward relationships aside, she is going to want you close by. It’s a whirlwind, this whole populating-the-planet gig. A lot of unscheduled trips to the doctor’s office, minor complications, sleepless nights . . . and that’s before the baby arrives and the chaos begins.”
“She told me she can handle this on her own.”
“She’d tell you she could wrestle a mountain lion to be left alone. That’s just Layla being Layla.” Chase shrugged. “Has she figured out you’re in love with her yet?” He slanted a shrewd look my way.
“I’m not in love with her.”
Chase chuckled to himself. “You bought an entire fucking apartment in her neighborhood to be close to her.”
“It was a good deal,” I said with a scowl.
“It was four hundred thousand over the asking price. With no parking space. You literally only drive on special occasions because you hate moving your car.”
“I like walking. Is cardio a crime now?” I snapped. “Let’s focus on my issue.”
I wiped a hand over my mouth, turning our first ultrasound together again in my head. Layla was so happy at first. We even held hands. I stupidly thought she was thawing toward the idea of, I don’t know, maybe seeing if this could be more. But then she backpedaled quickly and became distant and cold-ish.
A part of me wondered if it was because she’d seen the hunger in my eyes.
For this baby. For her.
“I’ll talk to her about the new job.” I finally took a pull of my beer. “Her plan is to move to Hoboken to stay with her parents for a few years. I can’t let that happen. I need to convince her to move into my place.”
Chase nodded seriously. “I would be embarrassed, too, if my baby momma lived in Jersey.”
I gave him a look. “It’s not about that, jackass. If she lives in my apartment, she’ll have more privacy, more space, her life and friends in the city.”
“Yeah, but she won’t have that extra pair of hands helping her around when the baby wakes up a hundred times a night, or when she wants to take a shower, or, you know, a breath,” Chase pointed out.
“I’ll see if I can make it to New York on the weekends.” I rolled my knuckles over my jawline, which felt really tight. I did not like the sound of my own plan. At all. “It’s not as demanding as my current job. The surgeries I’ll perform will be preplanned, so I might be able to be here Friday night through Sunday night.”
“A terribly demanding career, a newborn, and two different homesteads?” Chase stroked his chin. “Sounds like someone really wants an early heart attack with a side of a mental breakdown. Don’t let me stand in your way.”
“Do you have a better idea?”
“Yeah. Tell her how you feel and face the answer, even if you don’t like it.”
Easy for him to say. The love of his life loved him right back. Hell, Madison had even agreed to pretend to be his fiancée after she thought he’d cheated on her.
Layla’s heart had walls and chains around it. And a huge Do not enter sign.
I needed to proceed with caution if I wanted a chance.
“Thanks, but no thanks.”
“Your funeral, buddy.” Chase knocked back the rest of his drink. “Just remember—you snooze, you lose.”
Chapter Ten
Layla
Grant: Have you read Dear Desiree this week?
Layla: . . .
Layla: Have you???
Grant: My mother left the magazine open on her column.
Layla: God, I’m so glad you’re a doctor and not a lawyer. You Suck at lying.
Grant: Fine. Let’s not talk about the letter of the disgruntled girlfriend who found pictures of her partner’s ex-girlfriend in his drawer, next to the engagement ring . . .
Layla: Sheesh. Spoilers. I haven’t read this one yet.
Grant: Hurry up.
Layla: I still haven’t gone to Walgreens to pick up an issue. I had parent-teacher conferences back-to-back for the past couple days.
Grant: I have a copy right here.
Layla: So does every bodega on our block.
Grant: Yeah, but those bodegas don’t have the Thai green curry you love so much. Or that coconut slushie . . .
Layla: You play dirty.
Grant: You like it.
Layla: See you in ten minutes.
“Do you have a peach somewhere in here? And a lemon?”
“Why?” Grant’s head popped up from the kitchen. “Have you been craving fruit?”
“God, no, this baby is all about artificial colors and burgers of dubious origins.” Still perched on his couch, I flipped through Gloss to get to the weekly Dear Desiree column. “But I’m thirteen weeks along, and it says the fetus is the size of a peach now. It also says that by week fourteen, it will be the size of a lemon. Peaches are larger than lemons. The math doesn’t math.”