Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 69170 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 346(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69170 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 346(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
“But I don’t wanna stay here; I want to go home to my own bed.”
“Mom, just stay put for him and us; it’ll put our minds at ease.” I knew my daughter was lying to me by the way her lips were twitching and that it was all for the overgrown baboon who was lurking over me with a death scowl on his face. I have no idea what the hell had gotten into him.
I thought he was going to start trouble when the nurse came in and said some of them had to leave. He completely ignored her and asked the kids if they wanted to stay. They’d had enough for one day, thank heavens, and opted to leave and come back the next day and he had offered for them to stay at his place since the hospital they’d brought me to was closer.
“I’m not leaving.” He told the nurse, who laughed and assured him that it was okay, which I was glad for, or who knows what he would’ve done had she said he couldn’t stay.
Once the others had gone, he dimmed the lights in the room, if you could call it that. It’s been a while since I’ve stayed in a hospital overnight, but I don’t recall the rooms looking like luxury suites in a hotel.
The thing was huge, and the bed was a lot bigger than I remembered, with a lot more bells and whistles. “What room is this? It doesn’t look like a hospital room.” I know my insurance isn’t paying for this.
As if he’d read my thoughts, Damon, who had his one arm wrapped around me while the other caressed my tummy gently, kissed my hair for the tenth time in as many minutes that started down the nutty vine.
“Whose insurance are you on?” I wasn’t thinking when I answered and gave way too much information. “Since Kevin owns his business, I got it worked out in the divorce so I could stay on his insurance.” I felt his tense up behind me.
“That’s not gonna work?”
“What? Why? It’s really good insurance.”
“Because your ex’s insurance isn’t paying for my kid. And while we’re at it, he’s not having another man’s name, so you decide now: where do you want to get married in the next five months?”
I tried to turn around to look at him, but he wouldn’t let me move out of his arms.
“No, you stay where you are. You think you’re gonna look at me with those big doe eyes of yours and get me to change my mind? That’s not happening, not this time. Now stay still and listen.”
“First thing first, we’re getting married before the kid gets here. You’ve already had the big wedding, I didn’t so we’re going that route. You’re pregnant, so it would be too much stress for you to handle something that big in such little time, so we’ll hire a coordinator.”
“Do I even get a say?”
“No. You’ll also have to decide what you want to do with your house. I can hire a service to pack up the things you want, like clothes and shit like that, but my house is fully furnished, so leave all that shit at the house.”
“My house?”
“Yes, my place is bigger and in a better-suited area to raise kids. Plus, I’m not living in his house. We have to find you a doctor closer to my place.”
“What’s wrong with my doctor? It’s only like an hour away."
"Yes, and it’s a he.”
“Aren’t most doctors?”
“I wouldn’t know, but how would you feel if I let some other woman fondle my balls a few times a year?”
“You have got to be kidding me.”
“Not even a little bit.”
I knew it was too good to be true, that it was too perfect, that he was too perfect. The first sign that he had gone full-blown nutjob was the pillows in the back of the car when he took me home the next day. Not just the part that he had them delivered by his driver, but the fact he dropped the backseat into a bed so I could lie down with those pillows stuffed in around me, both in front and back.
When we got back to his house, which I had no say in whether I wanted to go there or not, I was first carted around like a sack of potatoes because apparently I no longer had the brain cells needed to remind me how to put one foot in front of the other.
Once inside, I learned that he had switched his master suite from upstairs to the one downstairs. Apparently, it’s too risky for me to go up and down the marble stairs when he’s not there.
“Why are you treating me like an old woman?”
“I’m not. I’m treating you like my fiancée who is carrying my baby and will be a few hours away from me when I’m at work.” Oh, good Lord, how many pillows are on that bed?