Total pages in book: 183
Estimated words: 178343 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 892(@200wpm)___ 713(@250wpm)___ 594(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 178343 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 892(@200wpm)___ 713(@250wpm)___ 594(@300wpm)
“You’re being ridiculous,” I whisper.
“I’ll be ridiculous, all right,” he advises like it’s a warning of more ridiculousness to come. “Just enjoy the chariot.”
Thankfully, there’s no one in the elevator or the hallways. But being in his presence has been hard enough, never mind being in his actual embrace. When we’re back inside his place, he carries me directly to the bedroom and gently sets me on the bed, then removes my shoes.
His eyes are like liquid green fire. I’ve had enough trouble looking into them since I found Ray in his basement, but now it feels like they’ll singe me to ash if I do it for too long.
“I’ll be right back. I’ll get you something to drink. What else? Food?”
“Yeah. I need food,” I say softly. “I missed dinner. But I might vomit it up. Fair warning.”
“Right back,” he says, setting my purse down on the nightstand.
I reach in and pull out my phone.
Missed call from Mom. No voicemail message.
I tap out a text to her.
I’m spending the night at Killian’s. I’ll call you tomorrow. Can you do me a huge favor and call Grampa for me? Sorry to message so late.
She replies right away.
Mom: No problem. Call me tomorrow. Hope things are better. Love you.
Killian is back a few minutes later with two steaming bowls of a steak and rice stir fry. And the chopsticks. The light saber ones.
I’m about to get up and he singes me with a look.
“I just need a fork. I’m not about to attempt chopsticks in bed.”
“I’ll get it.”
He returns with a fork wrapped in a napkin, a glass of milk, and a bottle of beer.
I’ve never been a milk drinker and a smile almost tugs at my mouth at him bringing that to me. But I halt it and a hollow feeling snakes through me instead.
He kicks his shoes off and climbs into the bed beside me, clicking the television on before he crosses his denim-clad legs at the ankles and lifts his bowl to eat.
I dig into the food and eat a piece of broccoli and a water chestnut.
“When were you gonna tell me?” he asks after he swallows his second bite. He’s having no problem using chopsticks.
I sigh.
The silence that follows my sigh hangs heavy.
“I don’t know,” I finally say.
“My punishment?”
“Huh?”
“A punishment for me keeping things from you? Keeping things from me, too? Important things?”
I shrug and take another bite of food.
He taps his mouth with his index finger for a long moment before digging around in his bowl again. “I’m not trying to pick a fight with you, but this hurts, Violet.”
I stare into my own bowl, but I’m hyperaware of every move he makes.
“Why won’t you look at me?” he asks.
I shrug.
It hurts too much. It feels like a hot poker slowly sinking into the center of my chest.
“It’s not that I wasn’t gonna tell you ever. I just… I was a little late and…” I let that hang.
“But you knew. And you didn’t tell me.” He takes a sip of his beer.
“I…” I sigh.
“You’re back home,” he states after a minute of waiting for me to finish. “I’m taking care of you. We’re fixing this.” He sets the beer bottle on the table and it sounds as if judge has just banged the gavel.
“I’m not sure if-”
“I am. The only way we fix it is if you’re here, so you’re here. After you eat, I’ll run you a bath and then we’ll sleep. We’ll talk more tomorrow. I’ll get your car picked up and I’ll call your job and tell them you’re quitting.”
“Huh?”
He shoots me a dirty look as if to say, you heard me.
“You wanna bet?” I raise my voice and glare at him.
He glares back and this makes my heart play hopscotch.
Wow. Poor choice of words, Violet.
My face flames. “I’m not quitting my job,” I still manage to say through clenched teeth.
“Calm down. We’ll talk about it tomorrow.” He flexes his jaw muscles and then takes another bite of food.
I’m exhausted. And emotionally drained. And I don’t want to get myself stressed out in case that’s a factor for the spotting. The last thing I want to do is hurt the baby because I can’t keep my head together. I decide to eat. Focus on just that for now.
Eat. Sleep. I will try to manage at least that.
I get through a few more bites before I reach for the bottle of prenatal vitamins in my purse, shaking one out into my palm and washing it down with a mouthful of milk. Weird, but the milk tastes good to me. I take a second sip.
Killian holds his hand out. I stare at it, confused. He takes the bottle of vitamins from me and looks it over.
“Have you told anyone?” he asks, eyes scanning the label.
I shake my head. “Not yet.”