Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 82163 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82163 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
“It’s not funny.” I look up at her, blowing the hair out of my face.
“I’m not laughing,” she says, leaning back in the chair her voice as calm as can be. Right now, she knows that she has to be the calm one because she knows I’m freaking the fuck out.
“He asked me how far along I was,” I tell her as if she wasn’t sitting at the table with me. As if she wasn’t the one holding my hand.
“Why didn’t you just lie?” she asks what I’ve been asking myself the whole time.
“Because I was in front of everyone.” I throw my hands in the air. “What the hell was I supposed to say, ‘oh just a couple of months’? Then knowing our family, they would all sit down and be like, ‘wait, didn’t you tell me.’” Then they were going to sit down and start doing math.”
She just shrugs. “Well, now you get to tell him the truth.”
I roll my eyes, but the pain in my chest kicks in, along with the stinging of tears, one escaping down my cheek as I use my index finger to wipe it away. “What if he doesn’t want me to have the baby?”
Her eyes go into slits. “Then we cut his balls off and call Uncle Matthew and Uncle Max.”
“This isn’t funny,” I hiss at her.
She shakes her head. “You already decided you didn’t care if he wants to be involved or not.” She reminds me of the conversation we had when I found out I was pregnant. “You sat down and we went over this. You were like, ‘It doesn’t matter if he is involved or not,
I don’t care.’”
“I don’t.” I put my hand on my stomach. “I’m willing to do this by myself.”
“Never by yourself.” She smiles at me. “I mean, it’s almost as if it’s my child since we are twins.”
“Almost.” I smile at her, the sound of my phone ringing from the front door has my whole body going cold and stiff.
“My Spidey-Senses tell me that it’s the baby daddy,” she teases, pushing off from the island. “I need a shower.” She looks over her shoulder at me. “Everything will be okay.” She takes a couple of steps up, stopping. “And if not, I’ll dust off my black clothes.”
“For what?” I ask her, the sound of ringing now stopping, giving me a couple of minutes to get my nerve up.
“Well, if we are going to kidnap him and kill him, I’m not going to wear flashy clothes,” she huffs. “You would think after all the Dateline that our family has made us watch, you would know this already.” She shakes her head going up the steps, and only when I hear the water come on in her room do I push off from the counter and walk over to my purse.
“What are the chances that it’s not him?” I ask myself as I grab my purse and search out my phone. “Like fifty-fifty?” I ask the walls, but my head screams out it’s one-hundred-percent him.
I turn the phone over, and sure enough, his name is there with a missed call notification. “What if I don’t call him back?” I look at my phone. “Like, what if I didn’t get this call?” I try to convince myself. “It’s technology. Sometimes things go into the cloud, and this could be one of them.”
I look down at the phone, and it starts to ring again, this time in my hand. “Well, now you’re just showing off.” I look up to the universe, and I press the green button to accept the call.
“Hello,” I answer, walking over and sitting on the bottom step.
“Hey, it’s me,” he says, and a smile just fills my face, “I have a bit of a problem.” I sit up, worried that something is wrong. “I called Roxanne and she’s in New York. So I can’t come to you. Do you think you can come over here?”
“Now?” I ask him, putting my hand on my forehead to see if maybe I’m getting a fever, and then I won’t have to see him.
“Whenever you can. I just put Penelope to bed.”
I take a deep breath in. “Might as well get this over with,” I mumble. “I can leave now.”
“I’ll send you my address,” he tells me
“I have it,” I confirm to him and close my eyes. “Roxanne came to the game once, and you guys took off for the away game right after. Well, her car didn’t start so I drove her home.” I quickly add, “Not that I’m like stalking you or anything.”
“I’ll see you soon,” he says and hangs up the phone.
“Could you be more of an idiot?” I ask myself.
“Yes,” Gabriella yells from her bedroom and then walks out, wrapped in her robe with a towel around her hair.