Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 85711 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85711 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
“You read things?” I ask, and he nods his head, opening the containers.
“Yeah, I didn’t know how far along you were, so I had to like google and stuff, but I got to see what the baby looks like,” he says, and my heart just grows in my chest. “I took the day we were together, and then it told me to add two weeks because that is when you were ovulating.”
I push away from the counter and walk into the bedroom to the frame by my bed. I pick it up and then open the drawer, taking out three more pictures. I walk back over to him. “This was taken about four weeks ago,” I say and hand him the frame. Inside is the black-and-white ultrasound of our baby. He takes it in his hand, and I can see his hand shaking as he looks down at it.
He looks over at me with tears in his eyes, and I smile as my own tears come to my eyes. “Do you know if it’s a boy or girl?” he asks, and I shake my head.
“I wanted it to be a surprise,” I say. “I mean, it’s already a surprise that I got pregnant, so I might as well just hold out for all the surprises.” He laughs.
“My parents are coming in today.” I just look at him with my eyes big. “We should talk,” he says. “About a couple of things.”
“Yes,” I say to him, not moving.
“We can talk while you eat.” He points at the empty stool beside him. “I don’t want you to get sick.”
I sit back down on the stool. My head’s spinning, and my heart’s thumping faster and faster. “I don’t know if I can eat,” I claim. “What do you want to talk about?” I ask, my hands getting just a touch shaky. I look down at them, and he sees it also. He reaches out and takes my hand in his. “I’m fine.”
He grabs the orange juice with his other hand and hands it to me. “The sugar will stop the shaking.” I let go of his hand, taking the glass to sip. “Now, is Julia your only sibling?”
I nod my head as my stomach rumbles. “I guess I’m hungry,” I say, opening the lid with the pancakes in it. “Do you have syrup?” He nods, reaching in the bag and pulling out two little containers of syrup. “Is this the good kind?”
“What is the good kind?” he asks, laughing as he pops a raspberry in his mouth.
“The extra sugary one that you should never eat?” I get up and walk over to the cupboard, taking it out. “I only tasted this after I got pregnant, and I’m not going to admit this to anyone, but I eat Eggo waffles every night before bed,” I share. “With butter and syrup.”
“Noted,” he says, nodding his head.
“Why are your parents coming down?” I ask nervously.
“I asked them to come because I want to tell them about the baby,” he explains. “I can just imagine what your father must think of me.”
“Well,” I say, looking at him. “He passed away, so you’re off the hook with that one.” I take a waffle out of the container with a pancake and cover them with syrup, watching it seep into the pancake. “But my mom, on the other hand,” I say, and his face goes white. “She was not pleased with me.” I see his shoulders slump. “It’s one thing your daughter getting pregnant but then you have to be like ‘oh and I don’t know the dad’s last name or how to reach him.’” He puts his hand to his stomach as I take a bite of pancake. “She prayed for this,” I say, pointing the fork at both of us. “So she is going to be really happy her prayer worked and brought you back to me.” I laugh, and he just looks ahead.
“I think I’m going to be sick,” he says. “She must think I’m a…”
“Nah.” I shake my head. “I mean, it was a rough couple of days, and she and I had heated words, but she’s come to terms with it,” I say. “When I told her, she went from shock to laughing, thinking it was a joke.” I laugh. “Julia and I thought she was having a stroke. Then she went into a rage and said some not nice things.” I shrug, thinking about the words she took back the minute she said them, and then I was the one consoling her after she had a nervous breakdown.
“I’m so, so sorry,” he says softly, “for not being there. For letting you do this all on your own.” He puts his hand on my cheek. “I don’t know how I will ever make it up to you,” he confesses, and my eyes go to his lips, then back to his eyes. “But I’m going to die trying.”