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)
My hand comes out to rub my stomach, as I feel flutters. “Hey, you think you can do me a solid and not make me barf on your grandparents?” I whisper to him or her. “I’ll let you vomit on them when you come out.” I smile and wipe the tear from the corner of my eye.
I get up slowly, taking a step toward the sink, and then think twice. There is no way I’m touching any of this. Instead, I lean over and grab some toilet paper and wipe my mouth. Flushing the toilet and then getting up to go to the sinks. I turn one gold faucet, and the water flows out softly. I cup my hand under it, bringing some of it to my mouth, rinsing it out, and washing my hands.
Looking around, I decide to dry my hand on the back of my pants. I mistakenly look in the mirror and cringe when I hear voices coming from outside the door. I try to listen, but all I hear is shushing.
Walking over to the door, I turn the handle, and when I open it, I don’t know why but I’m not surprised to see Michael there, but I am surprised to see his mother and father there. His mother is dabbing her eyes, his father has his arm around her as he rubs her back.
All eyes turn to me as I walk out of the bathroom. “I’m sorry.”
“Are you all right?” Michael asks, coming to me. “I have water,” he says, holding up the bottle.
I smile at him and grab the water, then look at his parents. “This is not how I wanted to meet you,” I say softly, looking down and then looking back up to see that his mother is crying.
The doorbell rings, and then I look over to see who else is here, and I’m suddenly scared that my sister tracked me down. I wait to hear her voice, but nothing comes out. Instead, the other guy comes back in again. “Hey.” He smiles at me. “I got you something.” He holds up a brown bag in one hand. “I’m Uncle Matthew, by the way.” He holds his hand out. “His favorite uncle.” He looks over at Michael, who just rolls his eyes.
“I’m Jillian,” I say to him and hold out my hand to shake his. “It’s nice to meet you.”
He hands me the bag, and I look at Michael, who is trying to look into the bag. “What is it?” It’s a lot heavier than I thought it would be.
“I got you some things,” his mother says softly, and my eyes go to hers. His father holds her around her shoulders and rubs her arm up and down. “To help with the nausea.” I can tell she is nervous by this, but the only thing I can do is look down at the bag. “There is some ginger ale, ginger tea, some saltines.” She looks at me with tears in her eyes. “We can get you something else if you need.”
“You bought me stuff,” I say, looking at the bag, and the tears come even though I fight them. Michael puts his arm around my shoulder and pulls me to him. He kisses my head, and all I can do is look down at the bag.
“If you need anything else,” his father says. “Whatever it is, we can go out and get it.”
“You guys,” I say and stop when my voice cracks. “You don’t hate me?” I ask, and my stomach sinks, and it’s not because I’m going to be sick.
“Why would you think we hate you?” his mother asks and comes to me. “Did you tell her this?” She looks over at Michael and glares at him. “Me and you.” She points at him and then her. “We are going to have a nice talk when she leaves.”
“Mom,” Michael refutes. “I never said that.”
“He didn’t say anything,” I finally say and look up at them. “He never ever said anything like that.” I look over at him and smile as I wipe away tears. “It’s just this whole situation. How it might look for me. Sleeping with him and then showing up pregnant,” I explain, and I wish I could stick a cork in myself. I wish that I would stop talking right now, but this baby has shifted everything inside me. “I’m not a woman who sleeps around,” I say, and my lips quiver. “Whatever you think of me, know that I don’t sleep with just anyone.”
His mother comes forward, and she puts her hands on my upper arms and rubs them up and down. I look up at her. “Hey,” she says, smiling. “One, we would never ever hold anything against you or think anything of you.” She blinks, and her own tears roll down her face, and she lifts one hand to cup my cheek, exactly like my mother did. “Everything is going to be okay.” She smiles, making me smile.