Total pages in book: 163
Estimated words: 164828 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 824(@200wpm)___ 659(@250wpm)___ 549(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 164828 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 824(@200wpm)___ 659(@250wpm)___ 549(@300wpm)
“Nothing,” I murmur into the darkness.
He hesitates, as if wanting to say something, but he doesn’t.
Eventually he says, “Goodnight.”
I close my eyes as a tear rolls down onto my pillow. “Goodnight.”
* * *
I wake alone.
Nathan has gone to work.
He didn’t wake me to say goodbye. I didn’t even hear him getting ready.
After crying silently in bed all night, I must have drifted into an exhausted sleep in the early hours.
I don’t feel emotionally strong enough to go to work today, but what do I do if I stay home? I’ll be a pshycotic by the time he walks in the door this evening. He’s in surgery today so I know he will be late.
I feel so alone, I need to talk to someone but my best friend and confidant is the one that’s hurting me. And the worst thing about it is, he can’t even help it.
I know he would never hurt me by choice.
I don’t want to talk to the girls. I still feel angry with them, and I know this isn’t their fault, but hearing the words I told you so right now will just tip me over the edge.
I have to make myself go to work. The alternative will be having a complete meltdown, and I can’t let that happen.
I drag myself up and into the shower.
I’ll stop at the pharmacy on the way and get a pregnancy test.
May as well get this over with.
I need to know.
* * *
I hit send on the final operating schedule for tomorrow.
“Hey.” Henry puts his head around the door. “How’s my girl today?”
I smile at Henry’s casual demeanour. He calls all of us girls in the office ‘his girl’.
He’s not flirty or stepping over the line. He’s just Henry being Henry. Weird to think back to my first impression of him now when he’s actually quite endearing.
“Do you want to go out for lunch?” he asks. “I’m starved.”
I look at him. “You know what? I do.” I go back to typing. “Give me two minutes to finish this email.”
“Okay.” He disappears down the corridor, and I smile sadly.
I’ve all but made up my mind. I want to go back to nursing. This isn’t my jam. I’m just not sure how to tell him. I finish off my emails and grab my handbag when I notice the brown paper bag tucked safely inside.
The pregnancy test. I was going to do it at lunch.
Oh, well, I’ll do it when I get home, I guess. I set off to find Henry, and twenty minutes later, we are in a sushi train across town.
“You know, I always eat way too much at these places.” He says casually as he takes a plate from the train. “Because I’m eating small plates, I have this mental block where I think I can keep eating.”
I smile as I grab a plate. “Me, too.”
He pops some sushi into his mouth with his chopsticks. “Well, this may very well be my main meal for the day.” He shrugs casually. “So, there’s that.”
“Why? Didn’t you end up getting back with your girlfriend?”
“No.” He rolls his eyes. “I really fucked things up there.”
“What happened?”
“God.” He sighs, “Where do I start? When I got back from the conference, she wanted to talk.” He shovels some more sushi into his mouth.
I frown as I listen. “And?”
“So….” he shakes his head as if disgusted with himself. “Of course, we end up in bed and now I don’t want anything…” He rolls his eyes and makes the blah, blah, blah sign with his hand.
“You used your ex-girlfriend for a booty-call?”
He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Sounds bad when you say it like that.”
“Did you?”
“It wasn’t my fault. She looked hot, and my dick accidentally fell out of my pants.”
“I hate it when that happens.” I fake a smile. For fuck’s sake, are all men completely clueless?
“Right?” He scoffs. “Me, too.” He continues eating. “Anyway, now I’m the worst in the world and she’s messaging me ten times a day to tell me so.”
I smile sadly. It feels good that everyone has shit to deal with.
“How’s your guard dog going?” he asks as he chews.
“Not so great, but that’s another story.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.” I sigh. “We were best friends for a long time before we went out.”
“How long?”
“Ten years.”
His eyebrows rise in surprise. “Wow.”
“And we only recently connected, and then we moved in together like two weeks later.”
He winces. “Well, that was fucking dumb.”
“But we practically lived together, anyway, so…”
“Yeah, but it’s completely different when you’re sleeping together. You should have waited at least six months before you moved in together. You’re too familiar. No wonder you’re fighting all the time. There’s all this added pressure. You would never move in with a new boyfriend after two weeks. This is no different.”
“That’s exactly what it is,” I reply. “It’s like we’re in a pressure cooker, you know? We are fighting over things I would never have imagined.”