Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 91213 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91213 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
“Yeah, it’s awesome,” I say, still very pleased with myself. I open it up and start flipping through the pages. “See…you can track all of your physical activity so we can make sure you and the baby are staying fit, and there’s a section on tracking your nutrients and even a little journal where you can commemorate all of your symptoms. Oh, and I even added some really cool healthy shake recipes I printed out. You like kale, right?”
“Yeah,” she drawls out as she looks to me with big eyes. My smile gets bigger. “Not so much.”
“What?” I ask as my smile wavers. “You don’t like kale?”
“I don’t like any of what you just said,” she says softly…kindly, but very firmly.
My smile dies a quick death. “Why not?”
Stephanie shrugs and gives me a sheepish smile. “I’m more of a fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants kind of girl.”
“But you know that physical fitness and good nutrition are important,” I remind her, and fuck, I sound like my mom.
Narrowing her eyes at me, she says, “You know…it’s almost as if you’re saying you don’t trust me to do right by this child.”
“I’m not saying that. I’m just trying to give you some supportive tools.”
“Well, I don’t need them,” she snaps at me.
Before I can even think to get pissed off by her attitude, she immediately bursts into tears. Big, fat droplets spill over her bottom lashes and slide down her cheeks. She stares at me in abject misery, and a searing sensation punches through me along with a moment of hopelessness.
But then I get my shit together and kick it into gear. I’m pulling her into my arms, one hand behind her head to press it into my chest. The other arm goes around her back and I rock her back and forth while she sobs onto my T-shirt, soaking the material within seconds.
“Get it out, baby,” I whisper to her, and resist the urge to sing her a lullaby. Whatever has made her sad, whatever has made these tears, I want to fix it. “Whatever it is, I’ll help you get through it.”
I’m totally stunned when Stephanie rips free of my hold with a pained sound of frustration.
“Stop trying to fix things, Lucas,” she says in a quavering voice as she furiously wipes at the tears in her eyes.
“I’m not—” I start to say.
“You are,” she cuts in, her voice imploring me to listen to her as if perhaps I’ve not really listened before. “You’re offering money, and health insurance, and kale shakes, and a freaking awesome family I could be a part of, and I can’t take it anymore.”
“What?” I say in confusion, but she keeps right on going.
“You’re so damn sweet and ask me every day about my nausea,” she says on a short sob before hiccupping. “You make sure I’m fed and taking my vitamins, and for fuck’s sake…you even did my laundry last week so I didn’t have to lift the baskets.”
“I was just—”
“And the shitty part is, any girl would die for that kind of care. You’re looking at me right now, wondering how you can make things better for me. You’re doing exactly what a dream guy should do, and I can’t handle it, because there’s something broken inside of me that won’t let me appreciate this.”
She continues crying, tears pouring down her face, and yet I’m afraid to make a move to hold her. So I keep my distance and tread very cautiously. “I’m just trying to help you. I don’t know why that’s a bad thing.”
A bitter, hoarse laugh tears free of Stephanie. “You can’t help someone that doesn’t want to be helped.”
“Sounds like a cop-out,” I murmur.
This doesn’t offend her, but it does inspire her to share. “My mom called me the day I got let go from the museum. Want to know why she called?”
Fuck no, I don’t want to know that shit. By the tone of her voice, I’m terrified to know.
“She thought I should have an abortion,” she says with pain-filled eyes.
“What?” I say in confusion, not even willing to believe a parent could say something so callous.
“She thought I should have an abortion,” she reiterates. “Her words were something along the lines of me not being able to really care for a child, and she had some legitimate points. Job instability, no direction in life, blah-blah-blah.”
I swallow hard, watching Stephanie’s spirit start to wither away in front of me.
“You know what I really heard, though?” she asks me in a choked voice. “I heard that I wasn’t good enough to have a baby. I wasn’t worthy of you and your family. I heard that I was so unlovable I shouldn’t ever try to aspire for anything more because it would be pointless.”
“Jesus fuck,” I hiss out, shaking my head in absolute denial. “Fuck no, Stephanie. Just no. That is not what she meant.”