Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 88899 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 444(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88899 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 444(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
When I have the courage to look up at him after the threat of getting sick passes, I find him looking down at me with a soft smile. His finger traces my cheek lovingly, and I almost let myself give in to the moment.
“I’m disgusting,” I say instead, purposely trying to ruin the moment because the love I see in his eyes makes me feel like the terrible person that I am.
“You’re radiant,” he argues.
“Your kid is trying to kill me.”
His smile grows, as if me acknowledging his child is the most amazing thing he’s ever heard.
“What do you want to do today?” he asks after a long silence.
“Eat everything in the house.”
He looks from my face to my position on the floor as if he never expected me to want to eat again with what just happened. I could explain that it’s a vicious cycle. Eat, get sick. Eat, get sick. But I just don’t have the energy.
“No regrets?” he asks, a soft smile playing on his lips as if he already knows my answers.
“I’ve never regretted orgasms,” I tell him with a quick smile. I say it with a playfulness, if only to ease the sting of my words. I feel like an asshole for saying it, but I need to bring whatever that look in his eyes means down a notch or two. I hate myself for it, especially when he frowns for a second.
He opens his mouth as if he’s going to say something, but then he snaps it closed, changing his mind.
“I’m going to go get us breakfast,” he says, pushing off the counter and walking away.
I don’t know if it’s the morning sickness or the way I just treated Kit like a plaything that continues to make me feel disgusting. I rinse my mouth with mouthwash and jump in the shower while Kit is gone. We discovered a serious lack of actual food in my fridge last night after working up such an appetite from the amazing sex, so I knew he’d have to leave if he wanted to get breakfast.
I think about locking him out as I dress again, but then remember he somehow has a key. I don’t doubt that Beth gave it to him after canceling yesterday because she knew I probably wouldn’t answer the door. I feel a little betrayed by her and a lot guilty for what happened last night. I wasn’t lying. I don’t regret the orgasms, but I do feel bad about the mixed signals I’m throwing Kit’s way. He definitely deserves better than what he’s getting from me. It makes me no less addicted to his touch, though.
I’m well aware of my own hypocrisy. I woke in his arms, happier than I ever remember being, and yet I still pushed him away by making it clear that our night between the sheets was just a way to get off. I feel terrible about it, but I have to keep looking at the bigger picture. Spending time with Kit is easily the high point of my life in recent years, if ever—if I’m being completely honest—but where that could lead is only a dead end. Getting tangled up in him, no matter how good it feels right now, will leave me broken and alone.
Beth would never understand despite the struggles she went through to find her own happily ever after. If any of them found out my deepest secret, they’d never forgive me. I already love the child growing inside of me, but that doesn’t negate the fact of how he or she got there. It was a betrayal, one even more deceptive than the secrets Kit and I are keeping from my best friend.
I head back into the bathroom to brush my teeth, unable to look at myself in the mirror. Memories of yesterday flash through my head—all the looks and soft smiles. The way he’d comforted me is something I found was just a little too much to take in all at one time. I had tears streaming down my face nearly the entire day, and yet he still looked at me with such love in his eyes.
I don’t know when his crush turned into something so beautifully broken, but it has. I have no doubt that I could suggest riding off into the sunset with Kit Riggs, and he’d help me pack my bags for the trip.
He’s back by the time I make my way down the hall into the living room.
“I didn’t know what you liked. We always have lunch or dinner at my parents’ house, so I’m not sure what you eat for breakfast,” he says as soon as I step into the room. “So I got a little of everything.”
I grab plates from the cabinet, hating the way he takes a step to the side when I get near him. I should be glad that we’re right back to where we were before we fell into bed with each other, but the sting from the mild rejection hits me like heartburn, right in the middle of my chest, threatening to burn up my throat.