Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79488 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79488 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
“Sariah’s here,” Brody says. “I’m going to go meet her in the front.”
“Who’s Sariah?” Amalia asks once he’s gone.
“His girlfriend,” I tell her.
“What?” She shrieks.
“Don’t embarrass him,” I warn. “I’ve never met her either. They only started dating a couple of weeks ago.”
A few minutes later, Brody walks in, holding hands with a cute little blonde. She’s dressed nicely in an appropriate dress and flats, and her makeup isn’t done up too much. When he introduces her to everyone, she smiles shyly and waves, then follows him to the table to sit down.
“She seems sweet,” Savannah murmurs into my ear.
I turn my head, and our faces are close... so fucking close. I want to kiss her right here, but it would raise questions. “Yeah, she does.”
Dinner is loud but fun, with everyone talking and laughing over each other. I didn’t realize how much I’ve missed doing shit like this. It reminds me how long I’ve been away and that we need to do this more often.
At some point, my hand finds Savannah’s knee, and I spend the entire meal massaging circles into her flesh. I’ve never been like this with a woman before, needing to touch her in some way at all times, and it only helps to cement my newfound truth: I want more with Savannah.
Chapter Seventeen
Savannah
I wake up to cramps strong enough to make me double over in pain. I tuck my legs up to my chest and stare at the wall, not wanting to get up, because I know that when I do, I’ll sit on the toilet to go pee and wipe crimson.
My period has arrived.
I’m not pregnant.
I should be ecstatic.
Ben and I played a game of Russian roulette and dodged the bullet.
Yet my heart hurts.
Because as a woman who has wished and hoped and prayed to one day start my own family, I was hoping by some miracle I was pregnant. I knew the chances were slim, and really, it’s for the best since Ben isn’t the man I’ll be spending my life with—but a part of me still wanted to be pregnant. To carry a baby in my womb, to feel him or her kick, to see the creepy yet beautiful skeletal face and body on the ultrasound screen, and at the end of the nine months, give birth to the most precious baby in the world.
The pain in my lower belly worsens—like a subtle reminder that I’m not pregnant—and I squeeze my eyes closed, wanting to go back to sleep and wake up in five days when my period is over. For most women, a period is a necessary annoyance, but for those like me who can’t conceive, it’s like a flashing neon sign that points out month after month that I’m broken.
And with that thought, I find myself lying here, wondering where the hell I’m going and what I’m doing with my life. What kind of person am I to wish for a man, who has no desire to have any more kids, to impregnant me? And of course this is the same man I’m falling for—hard and fast.
No strings, my ass.
My thoughts go back to the past few days, to the way Ben held my hand and kissed me. We haven’t had sex in over a week, not since our gym session, yet somehow after this weekend, it feels like we’re closer than ever. I’m not sure how kissing and holding hands can feel more intimate than the act of sex itself, but with Ben, it does.
I should break things off, tell him I’m done, but every time I think about doing so, sadness blankets me. Because with every kiss, every touch, every look he gives me, I’m falling deeper and deeper. I know it’s going to end with my heart broken, but I just can’t find it in me to walk away. God, I’m such a masochist.
The alarm goes off on my phone, and I shut it off, not wanting to get up but knowing I need to. Until I take some pain reliever, the cramps won’t lessen, and I don’t want my clothes and sheets to be stained red. I roll out of bed and head straight to the bathroom.
Sure enough, my period has started, and my underwear is coated red. I peel them off and throw them into the sink so I can try to keep them from staining. Then I jump in the shower to rinse off. Once I’m out, I pop a couple of pain pills. I can already tell this month’s cycle will be bad, and mixed with my feeling sorry for myself, I’m in no mood to go to work. After pulling up Sharp’s employee website and putting in for a sick day, I crawl back into bed, tucking myself under the blankets, and go back to sleep.