Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 61542 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 308(@200wpm)___ 246(@250wpm)___ 205(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61542 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 308(@200wpm)___ 246(@250wpm)___ 205(@300wpm)
Am I ready?
My blood runs cold as I stare at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. I only have nine months to prepare myself, if I choose to continue this pregnancy.
Well, that’s not accurate, actually.
Birth happens about forty weeks after conception. I’ve already missed my period twice.
It took me so long to even buy this test stick because I didn’t think it was even possible for me to get pregnant. That’s also why I only bought one.
I should probably go back to the drugstore and get a bunch so I can be sure. And I’ll get myself tested at the hospital, as well.
Since two period cycles are about six to eight weeks, that means, in all likelihood, I have way less than nine months. More like seven or eight. That’s what a doctor would probably tell me, if this turns out to be a real pregnancy.
But if it’s confirmed, I don’t need a doctor to tell me when exactly it happened because I still remember.
Oh, I remember.
It was exactly fifty days ago.
It was another night of working hard and playing hard for me. I sometimes like to combine the two.
That particular night, though, I came to a realization that I probably should, that the two should remain separate. Work is work, and play is play.
But when faced with a man like that, how’s a girl supposed to resist?
He had such a presence. The moment he spoke to me in his low baritone, I was putty in his hands. Then, he dominated my mind and manipulated my body like he knew me, inside and out.
He didn’t, though—he doesn’t. And I don’t know him either.
Still, I can’t forget that man—not for the rest of my life; not even if it turns out I’m not carrying his baby.
Adam
Fifty Days Ago
“How’s your day been?” Mom asks over the phone.
“Terrible.” I cradle my phone between my ear and shoulder while my fingers continue typing on the computer.
No matter how busy I get, I always pick up when my mom calls, unless I’m right in the middle of a meeting. I’m all she has, after all.
Even though we’re no longer poor and desperate, I still worry about her. I don’t want to ignore the wrong phone call and regret it for the rest of my life.
“Oh, I’m sure it’s not that bad,” Mom says cheerfully.
“It’s pretty bad. The legal team let this one document slip through the cracks, and now a multi-million-dollar deal is at risk.”
“See? Not that bad at all.”
“We could potentially lose millions of dollars if this doesn’t get fixed in time.” I love my mom, but she has no idea how cut-throat my world is.
I’ve worked my ass off to get here, stepping on a few toes along the way. There are people out there who’d deliberately stick their foot out to trip me, too, and I don’t blame them.
I need to stay at the top of my game if I don’t want to lose everything I’ve worked so hard for.
“See, you’re looking at this all wrong, honey,” Mom says. “You’re in a position to lose millions of dollars. That’s tremendous. Lots of people don’t ever get to that stage in their entire lives. And you’re already there.”
“Yeah, I know.” I resist the temptation to cut her off, even though I already know what she’s going to say. I’ve heard it a hundred times before.
“You’ve already made it, and you’re only twenty-eight,” she says. “Why are you still in such a rush? What is it that you’re chasing after now?”
“It’s not that simple, Mom.”
“I know, I know. You’ve told me that before,” she says. “But you should take a step back and look at the bigger picture sometimes. You’ll see just how little the details actually matter.”
“I know, I know. You’ve told me that before,” I say, imitating her.
“Smarty-pants.” Mom laughs. “Try to take some time off work, Adam. Your secretary told me you always stay back in the office until late. Sometimes, she even sees you wearing yesterday’s clothes.”
“Huh. I didn’t think she’d notice. All men’s suits look the same to me.”
“Don’t change the subject,” Mom says. “Promise me you’ll go home at five today.”
“If you want to have dinner with me, all you have to do is ask, Mom.”
She laughs. “Sorry, but I have plans.”
“Plans with a certain gentleman?” I ask.
She giggles. My mom’s always been a happy, optimistic person, but lately she’s been acting like a giddy schoolgirl. It’s interesting to watch.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” I say. “Have fun with Mr. Palmer.”
“Thank you, you cheeky monkey. Go find a date and have fun.” She pauses. “Have you heard about Tinder?”
Jesus.
“Yes, Mom. I’ve heard about the most popular hook-up app that’s been around for years.”
“Just checking,” she says. “Do you already have a Tinder account?”
“I have to go back to work now, Mom,” I say, sighing. “Talk soon, okay?”