Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 95307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Now he snorts a laugh. “I don’t think I’ve been called debonair a day in my life,” he adds, taking my hands in his and bringing them to his chest.
“That’s a shame,” I tell him, loving the way my heart beats a heavy pattern in my chest. It reminds me of that first time I saw him, and the next several times we talked. With our busy school schedules, we actually talked on the phone for an entire week before our first date. Those days were filled with short conversations between classes and text updates while studying. I looked forward to our communications, and craved those late-night talk sessions.
“Have you called your boss yet?” he asks, interrupting my walk down memory lane.
“Uhh, no, not yet. I was going to send her an email later. I need to line up a sub for Monday.”
“And Tuesday. Actually, just take the whole week off,” Harrison instructs, leaving no room for negotiation.
“Umm, excuse me?”
“The doctor said to take it easy for a few days.”
I give him my best “teacher” look and reply, “Yes, a few days; not an entire week. There’s no reason for me to be off that long. I’m fine.”
“Through Wednesday, then.” Harrison steeples his fingers at his nose, as if he’s in a business meeting. Well, sorry, buster, but I’m not a business arrangement or contract in need of negotiating.
“I’ll take two days. I need to call my doctor tomorrow anyway for an appointment. Hopefully they can get me in Tuesday.”
Harrison sighs deeply. “You’re not going to budge on this, are you?”
I shake my head.
Again, he exhales. “Fine, through Tuesday. I’m going to the doctor though.”
Smiling happily that he conceded, I squeeze his hands. “Thank you, and yes, I’ll let you know as soon as I have an appointment set. I can call you,” I add, getting up off my knees and instantly feeling the need to use the restroom again.
I head toward the hallway when he replies. “No need. I’ll be staying here.”
Well, that stops me in my tracks.
“Excuse me?” I ask, startled, turning around and staring at the man taking over my easy chair. He’s reading the book again, or at least thumbing through it as if he were.
“I’m staying here,” he comments casually, as if no big deal.
“For today.”
“For a while.”
“We’ve talked about this. I agreed to let you stay for a very short term. One night, tops. Remember?”
He smirks over the top of the paperback. “I recall.” Then he returns his attention to the book, essentially dismissing me.
“You’re not staying here, Harrison. We’re divorced,” I state, crossing my arms over my chest. No, it’s not the end of the world if he stays here, but it just makes the muddy water even murkier. The problem is that I’ll start to enjoy having him here again, and eventually, he’ll head back to his place, leaving me behind. That thought is just depressing, really.
“We’ll see,” he says, giving his attention back to the book.
I groan in frustration and head to the bathroom to do my business. As I wash my hands, I can’t help but stare at the reflection in the mirror. I don’t look any different, but I definitely feel it. My hands instantly drop to my flat stomach, much like they did in the shower earlier. There’s a miracle growing inside me. Our miracle, even though I thought that ship had long sailed.
I just pray we’re strong enough to weather the storm this time around.
On Monday morning, after a quick phone call to my regular OB/GYN, I’m scheduled for an appointment that afternoon. As soon as I mentioned the accident and spotting, they insisted on squeezing me in as soon as they could. I’m thankful as I think this appointment will go a long way at calming my nerves. Sure, they’ll still be there, but I’m hoping they’ll be able to confirm that everything is going to be okay.
“Gwendolyn,” the nurse says into the packed waiting room of pregnant women. They come in every stage of pregnancy, some not showing, like me, and a few very close to their due date.
Harrison stands up and places his hand under my elbow. He guides me through the room to where the nurse smiles warmly. Her eyes seem a little brighter now that she’s gotten a good look at my husband—err, ex-husband. I want to tell her I get it. He’s totally adorable. But I keep quiet, and maybe lean into him a little closer.
“Let’s check your weight first, and then you can step into the restroom and give us a urine sample,” she says, glancing over my shoulder once to check out the man behind me. Okay, now it’s a little annoying.
I’ve never been self-conscious about my weight, but there’s something unnerving about stepping on the scale in front of Harrison and the nurse with wandering eyes. That number is only going to keep going up. For good reason, mind you, but I won’t dwell on it since the reason will be well worth it.