Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 92702 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92702 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
I did, however, expect answers. A sense of closure. Understanding of what happened that day, my grandfather’s last day, a day meant to be a celebration that ended in tragedy. I hoped when all was said and done, I’d be able to grasp what went on in my grandfather’s head.
I forgot there’s no understanding of what went on in his head. That attempting to understand him was always a fool’s errand.
At the moment, something bigger is on my mind, anyway. I can set my questions aside in favor of focusing on Alicia. “You’re sure you’re all right? You didn’t get hurt at all?”
Instead of smarting off the way she might have done any other time, she offers a soft, understanding sort of smile. “I’m fine. You don’t have to worry about me.”
That’s what she’ll never understand. There will never come a time when I don’t worry about her. Even if she were to walk out of my life, never to be seen again, not a day would pass when I wouldn’t ask myself what she’s doing, how she is, or where she is. Certain things, you don’t need to experience to know for sure. That’s one of them.
Even though Prince is driving, able to hear every word, I place a hand over my wife’s stomach. “You’re sure? Sometimes, things can happen, and a person doesn’t know until it’s too late.”
“I fell on the ground. I didn’t actually get hurt.”
“Just the same. We’re taking you to a doctor first thing in the morning,” I tell her, needing to make sure she and our child are okay. She rolls her eyes and clicks her tongue, but I’m not budging on this. “I mean it. I’m taking you to a doctor, and they’ll do one of those ultrasound things.”
“If it makes you feel better.” She covers my hand with hers, and her smile widens, making something ache deep inside my chest. It isn’t a painful ache. It’s rather nice—warm, almost sweet. I don’t know what to do with it. And when I withdraw my hand, rattled by the intensity of my reaction, her smile slides away, and I know I’ve ruined something. There’s no undoing it. I pull farther away, returning to my side of the back seat. I shouldn’t have sat back here. I should have stayed up front instead of being so determined to make sure she was safe, whole, and well.
There’s one thing I keep forgetting. I’m not meant for this life. Doting husband, concerned father, that shit. I’ve gone so far over the edge I can hardly remember why it was important to stay away from her. Moments like this remind me that I don’t have what it takes. I’m not built the way I should be. I’m broken.
And we aren’t in this for a relationship. Once she gives me what I want, that’s it. Those were my terms, weren’t they? I can’t even stick to my own terms around her. She’s worked her way that deep into the heart I was sure I didn’t have.
Once we arrive at the house, I leave her at the foot of the stairs and gesture up toward the hallway. “You’ve had a long day. Go take a bath and get ready for bed; you need your rest.”
“I’m pregnant,” she reminds me while wearing that same soft, understanding smile. “Not dying.”
“For once, could you do something without arguing? I have a lot that still needs to be taken care of. Word is going to spread of what happened tonight, and—”
“Enough.” She raises her hand, her brows pinching together while disappointment radiates from her eyes. “Next time, all you have to do is say you want to get me out of the way so you can get some work done. It’ll save us both a lot of time.”
“Wait a minute.”
She pauses after placing a foot on the stairs. “Which is it? Do you want me to go, or do you want me to wait a minute?”
Why is she like this? I have to grit my teeth against what threatens to spill out, thanks to her attitude. “Just go. And don’t forget, I’m making you an appointment in the morning, first thing.”
“Yes, sir.” It’s the fatigue in her voice that gets me as she walks slowly up the stairs. I know I’m right—she has to be exhausted.
You asshole. Thank her. Tell her how it felt when you didn’t know whether she was hurt or safe. Tell her everything that went through your mind. Tell her how pointless everything would be if she was gone. I wish I could. I do. What’s stopping me? Knowing how unfair it would be to make her care for me more than she already does. I’m no good for her. I’ll only ever fuck things up, and she needs more than that. Better than me.