Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 97339 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97339 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
Hmm, good idea. That would buy me an extra minute or two. “That’d be great.”
“Okay,” she says, and I listen carefully through the door, hearing as she walks back across her room and through the door. There’s a soft thumping as she makes her way back up the hallway to her kitchen and, realizing this could be my only chance, I make my move.
Darting out of the bathroom, I scurry around the woman’s bedroom, collecting all of my clothes and making sure I still have my phone, keys, and wallet as the woman hums to herself in the kitchen. Having everything I need, I hurry back into the bathroom, closing the door behind me before hastily pulling my clothes back on.
I’m just about done when I hear a creak in the floorboards and panic sails through my chest. Shit, she’s on her way back.
Reaching up for the latch of the window, I quickly flick it before shimmying the old window up, and from the way it squeals in the silence, it’s clear this window hasn’t been opened for a while. Not having time to pull my shirt on, I shove it in my mouth and bite down before stepping up onto the toilet and hoisting myself up.
I hear her voice on the other side of the closed door as I slide through the small window, scratching up my waist in the process. When I hit the ground, I accidentally squish her poorly cared for garden. Thank fuck this is a one-story home.
“Carter?” the woman calls, her voice sailing through the open window. “Babe, can you open the door?”
Not likely.
“Carter?” she calls again.
Yeah, it’s time to run.
My feet pound against the pavement, feeling like a fucking teenager again. I can’t remember the last time I snuck out of a woman’s window to avoid fucking her, but hell, I’m ashamed to say that definitely wasn’t the first time. I suppose as a teenager, it was probably excusable . . . kind of. But as a grown-ass man. Fuck. There were definitely better ways to have done that.
After getting halfway down the street, I stop and pull my shirt on before finding my phone and searching through the endless apps to book an Uber. As I do, I see a bunch of missed calls from Sean. Stopping in my tracks, I quickly book my Uber and call him back before bringing the phone to my ear. The call connects and the sound of someone screaming in agony fills the speaker before Sean’s voice comes over the noise. “Hey,” he calls. “About time you called me back.”
“What the fuck’s going on?” I ask. “It sounds like someone is being murdered in there.”
“Sara’s in labor,” he tells me, elation in his tone. “We’re having a fucking baby, bro. We’re at the hospital now.”
“No shit,” I boom. People on the street stop to stare at me as I look around, trying to figure out the fastest way there. “How’s it going? Do I need to get down there?” Excitement takes over every thought in my mind. My brother is about to have a fucking baby. How great is this? In the next few hours, I could have a little niece or nephew to corrupt.
“Nah,” he says with a smile in his voice. “It’s still early. We’ve got time. Give it a few hours then start heading down.”
“Okay,” I say, finally starting to calm down. “How’s Sara doing? Is she alright?”
“Do I fucking sound alright?” I hear Sara screeching in the background, and I realize I must be on speakerphone.
My eyes widen, and I’ve suddenly never been so scared to speak in my life. “You sound great, Sara,” I say encouragingly, hoping like fuck that was the right thing to say.
“You’re full of shit,” she grunts just before a blood-curdling wail tears out of her. “I hate this. You assholes better have a big fucking push present for me after this,” she demands.
Push present? What the fuck is a push present? “Of course we got you . . . one of those,” I tell her, hoping like fuck Sean is on the ball with this, otherwise the motherfucker is quickly running out of time. Though I don’t doubt that after pushing out a baby, Sean is going to get Sara anything and everything she could ever want. Not that he doesn’t already give her the world.
Sara whimpers, the pain clear in her tone, and I can’t for the life of me understand why Bri would want to put herself through that so badly. “Alright,” Sean says, cutting in. “I’ve got to go. I’ll give you a call when it’s time to head down here.”
“Sure thing, man. Let me know if you need anything,” I say as I hear Sara in the background demanding the good shit, and fuck, I’m glad I’m not Sean right now. I can’t imagine anything worse than watching the woman you love physically tear her body apart as she pushes a watermelon out of such a small hole. I’d be traumatized.