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)
I hear the dickhead laughing as his date bitches at him, and I can’t help but wonder why I’m the one who feels humiliated. Making my way to the living room, I get comfortable with a glass of water as I look out through Bobby’s massive floor-to-ceiling windows that capture the magnificent views of New York. God, I wanna smack him right now, but I can’t help but feel so incredibly proud of him. Hell, I feel this way every time I visit him out here. He’s doing so well for himself and is the perfect example of what happens when you truly believe in yourself and keep working until you reach your dreams.
Bobby emerges a few minutes later and shuffles his hooker into the elevator before dropping down on the couch beside me, his arms spread out on the backrest, making himself comfortable. “What the fuck are you doing here?” he asks with a cheesy grin.
I look at him, and while I so desperately want to bitch at him for what I just walked in on, all that manages to come out is a terrified whimper before I burst into uncontrollable tears.
“Woah,” Bobby says, springing into overprotective brother mode and yanking me into his chest, wrapping me up in a warm hug. “What the fuck is going on?”
I let out a breath as I prepare to make this way too real. “I’m pregnant.”
His eyes bulge out of his head. “You’re what?” he demands, flying up off the couch and gaping at me in horror.
“Well . . . I’m pretty sure anyway.”
“What?” he repeats.
“Yeah . . .”
“Shit, Brianna,” he breathes, quickly pacing up and down the length of the couch before finally dropping back down beside me, his head in his hands as though I just told him that the second I give birth to this crotch monster, I’ll be dropping it on his doorstep. “How did this happen?”
“Really?” I ask, giving him a blank stare. “Do you need me to explain?”
Bobby rolls his eyes as he watches me. “You know what I meant,” he says. “But how the hell can you only be pretty sure? You either are or you’re not. There’s no in-between.”
I let out a heavy sigh and prepare myself for the onslaught of bullshit that’s going to follow after this. “I haven’t taken the test yet,” I admit.
“Fuck, Brianna. Are you shitting me?” he scoffs. “You came all the way here without taking the fucking test first?”
“Umm . . . yeah,” I say.
He lets out a frustrated groan before standing up and grabbing his keys off the counter. “Come on.”
I get to my feet, my brows furrowed. “Huh? Where are we going?”
“To go get the fucking test, dumbass. Where do you think we’re going?” he says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
Crossing the living room, I grab my bag before scrambling through it until my hand closes around the bag of tests I’d bought at the airport drug store. “Ahh, here’s one I prepared earlier,” I tell him in a stupid voice, knowing damn well now isn’t the time for jokes, but fuck, I couldn’t pass up the opportunity.
Bobby looks at me as though I’ve gone insane. “Then what the fuck are you waiting for? Get on with it.”
I stand motionless, not wanting to make the move, my hands shaking at my sides. “I’m scared. What if it’s positive?”
A softness creeps into his eyes, and he steps into me before wrapping me in those big, warm arms. “Then you’ll make one hell of a great mother.” I don’t respond, just stand in his arms, taking comfort in my brother’s kindness. “I’m assuming it’s Carter’s,” he grunts as an afterthought. “What does he say about all of this? I thought he didn’t want kids.”
“I haven’t told him yet,” I admit, peering up at him with a cringe. “I haven’t seen him since Sara’s funeral, and I was trying to keep it like that. It hurts too much when I see him. Besides, I wanna be certain before I go dumping news like this on him.”
“You can’t avoid him forever,” he says. “Especially now.”
“I can try,” I grunt.
“Don’t be stupid,” Bobby scolds as he pushes me out of his arms and leads me toward the bathroom. He comes right on in and steals the bag of tests out of my hands before dumping them out on the bathroom vanity. He picks up one of the boxes and makes himself comfortable on the edge of the bathtub, scanning over the instructions. “How the hell do these things work?” he questions as he studies the test.
“I don’t know,” I say, picking one up and having a look. “I’ve never had to do one before. I guess you just pee on it and wait.”
“No, I don’t think so,” he says in confusion. “This one has a little tub you have to pee into and then you put the test in it.”