Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 29279 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 146(@200wpm)___ 117(@250wpm)___ 98(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 29279 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 146(@200wpm)___ 117(@250wpm)___ 98(@300wpm)
She walks over to my couch, pushing my pillow and blanket out of the way, and grabs my remote before pushing the green “Info” button.
“Friends and Lovers. Interesting. I had no idea you were into stuff like this.”
I sigh and sit down heavily next to her, staring at the screen blindly. Tom’s face is frozen where I paused it, mid-romantic declaration. He’s as gorgeous as always, his blue eyes intense as he stares into the adoring face of the female lead.
“This movie is pretty good,” Simona says, putting the pizza box down on the coffee table. “I don’t like the guy in it though. He’s not really believable. I mean, how many people ever meet someone who looks like that?”
Her statement is spot on yet so wrong in so many ways that she doesn’t even know. I start to cry.
“Aw honey,” Simona says. “What’s wrong? Did I say something?” She pulls me into a hug. “Are you going to ever tell me what happened? You’ve just been so different ever since you were rescued at sea. Is it nightmares?”
“There’s nothing to tell,” I lie, my cries muffled. “I was stuck on an island for two days, and then the ship picked me up and brought me back.”
Simona doesn’t buy it. Her dark brows shoot up in disbelief.
“Brynn, come on. How long have we been friends? I know something went down, and you’re bottling it up. What happened?”
I shake my head, sniffling.
“Nothing. I told you. I would have told the authorities if something crazy happened.”
She looks at me for a minute before sighing.
“Alright, fine. Come on, let’s eat some pizza.”
We sit, talk and cry a bit more, and I feel a little better. Simona is a good friend, and she regales me with funny stories about her most recent dates. Still, I miss Tom desperately. It seems he’s always in the back of my mind, no matter what I do. Thank god I don’t have to work at the moment because I’d be totally unproductive. As a freelance photographer, I can set my own schedule, and so I’ve been at home this entire time, just wallowing.
When Simona leaves several hours later, we come up with a plan to meet up the next day for drinks. It’s time I get back to my life back on track. At the very least, I need to look over my archive of photos. I have some stuff that I was going to pull together for a book, but that’s been far from my mind these last few weeks. It’s time to make it happen.
But after I shut the front door, I take one step back into the living room when my stomach lurches and there’s the acid taste of throw up in my throat.
“Oh god,” I gasp and stumble into the bathroom.
Right in time because I promptly lose the pizza and ice cream I just ate into the toilet. What could make me feel so horrible? It shouldn’t be the pizza because I’ve been eating pizza since I’m a kid. Nor am I lactose intolerant, so it shouldn’t be the ice cream either. Yet my stomach feels like there’s a rock sitting in it. Wiping my nose with toilet paper, I glance in the mirror. My eyes are glazed and my face is pale.
“What’s wrong with me?” I ask out loud.
Could I have the flu? I take my temperature but it’s normal. But when I’m placing the thermometer back in the drawer, I see several unused tampons. My stomach, already queasy, drops into the soles of my feet. Oh shit. I run out into the living room and grab my cell, opening up my calendar before scanning the empty days. I missed my period this month.
“Oh fuck!”
When I was with Tom, we made love several times and now that I think back, we didn’t use protection once or twice. It just happened, and I think he tried to tell me, but I cut him off because I wanted it so much.
“Fuck,” I whisper again, collapsing onto the couch.
I think about Tom, with his beautiful eyes and smile. I think about the way he held me, his strong arms clasping me close. How he had a six pack, and how intense his gaze was in the darkness of the room. I should be terrified but for some unexplainable reason, happiness blooms in my heart because I want this baby. As crazy as it sounds, the child is a memory of the island St. Brigid, one that still fills my heart with hope, even now.
I know in this very moment that I have to find Tom and tell him. I don’t care if he’s a famous actor from LA. I don’t care that I was a castaway, or that we weren’t upfront with each other. All I know is that I have to tell him that we’re having a baby together, and that I want this child.