Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 61100 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 306(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 204(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61100 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 306(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 204(@300wpm)
I don’t know what I’m going to say to them or how I’m going to say it, but I’ll figure that out while I’m making espresso drinks. I’m definitely going to tell them about the pregnancy; I’m just not sure how.
I debated about waiting for a while, but decided that it’ll be best to get it out sooner than later. I want plenty of time to consider my options, and I want them to be involved in those decisions.
“Morning, Rose,” Nancy sings out when I arrive at Island Java.
Is this how she’s going to play it—like everything’s fine? Like she didn’t tell my brother what I expressly told her not to? I’m still irritated about her lack of discretion, even though it already feels like it happened a year ago.
“Hi,” I say, not even bothering to smile. The sunny outlook I’m known for is usually genuine, but there have been many times in my life when I’ve felt I needed to smile through a variety of negative emotions, and I don’t want to do that anymore.
I don’t owe anyone a smile.
I don’t work the opening shift, so the shop is already busy and things are in full swing when I come in. Nancy goes about her business, and I go about mine, and the day passes quickly. I make two deliveries, neither of them to Brothers in Ink, of course.
Except for necessary work-related interactions, Patrick gives me the silent treatment, and that’s just fine, because I don’t want to talk to him either.
Instead of chatting, I silently run through different ways to break the news to the men, but none of it sounds quite right. How can I plan a conversation when I have no idea how they’ll react? I can imagine them getting mad and shutting down, and I can also imagine them being happy after they get over the initial shock, but maybe that’s just more wishful thinking.
At times, I veer into panic mode, but there are a few moments in my day where glimmers of a happy future come through. I think I’d like being a mom, and I love the idea of having their baby, whichever of the men’s that it is.
I can envision a happy little life, but the guys would probably think that’s just me being naïve and overly optimistic. Maybe it’s silly to hope that life could go smoothly when it comes to relationships and parenthood.
When my shift ends, I’m unusually tired, but I don’t know if it’s mental and emotional exhaustion, or fatigue caused by the pregnancy. It doesn’t make sense to me that I’d be so tired when my belly hasn’t even started to grow, but according to online research, it’s normal to already be fatigued.
I’m still thinking through my upcoming discussion with the men as I drive back to my apartment. I expect to have some time to change my clothes and scrub the caffeine out of my pores, but I spot Hutch’s truck as soon as I pull into my lot. The four of them are waiting for me when I get out of my car.
My chest aches at the sight of them, like my heart wants to burst out of my chest, and whether that’s from excitement or dread, I don’t know. It’s really good to see them, despite the conversation I need to have.
“How are you?” Christian asks, while the others just greet me with nods, their eyes unusually wary.
“I’m good,” I say out of habit, but then I correct myself. “Actually, I’ve been better.”
“Are you feeling okay?” Hutch asks.
My lack of energy must be obvious. “I’m tired,” I admit.
He lifts the strap of my bag off of my shoulder. “Here, let me get this.”
“It’s just my purse. It’s not heavy.”
“I got it,” he insists, draping it over his shoulder and making the big tote look tiny.
With nervousness starting to build, I lead them up the steps to the door of my unit. “It’s a little bare inside,” I warn them. “There’s nowhere to sit except for my bed.” My cheeks heat at the mention of my bed, followed by a pain in my heart. There’ll be no activity on that bed today, and most likely never again with these men.
“Do you need furniture?” Mace asks.
“I’m working on it. I have the basics.”
Once we’re inside, Christian says, “All you have is a bed and a bedside table.”
I shrug. “Yeah, the basics.”
“Where do you eat?” Zipper asks as Hutch sets my purse on the kitchen counter.
Again, I shrug, realizing I haven’t had much of an appetite. “On the bed, on the floor, or standing right here,” I say, leaning against the counter.
The men’s heads continue to swivel, taking in the space, but they don’t say anything more about it.
“Would you like something to drink?” I ask. “Water, actually,” I add. I have eaten since I moved in, but I haven’t made an official trip to the grocery store to stock my refrigerator.