Total pages in book: 241
Estimated words: 234779 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1174(@200wpm)___ 939(@250wpm)___ 783(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 234779 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1174(@200wpm)___ 939(@250wpm)___ 783(@300wpm)
“I do like him getting yelled at,” she murmurs, slightly mollified.
I smile at her. “He did, and he took it very well. He’s not as worried about the possibility of pregnancy as I am.”
She rolls her eyes. “Men.”
“He offered to buy me a house.”
She blinks. “What?”
“He’s crazy,” I explain. “He was talking about how if I end up pregnant because of this one little time, it won’t ruin my life. He’ll buy us a house in Boston and we’ll go to college just like we planned to. He even suggested hiring you as the baby’s well-paid nanny in a bid to make you like him—and ensure expert childcare for our hypothetical baby, of course. He’s immensely impressed with me, so he thinks your parenting skills are top notch.”
A little more placated, she says, “Well. I guess maybe he’s not a complete asshole.”
I shake my head. “He’s not. I really do think you’ll like him. He’s rather charming.”
“They’re all charming when they’re trying to get skimpy skirts off of us,” she assures me. “When you actually get pregnant and reality sets in, things tend to change.”
“Well, why don’t we cross that bridge if we get to it,” I suggest. “In the meantime, let’s figure out my birth control situation and hope for the best.”
Sighing, Mom asks, “Which of us is the adult here? Look at you handling this whole situation on your own.”
I crack a smile. “If it makes you feel better, you can still call and make the doctor’s appointment for me. I hate doing that.”
Mom brightens. “There’s my 18-year-old. Yes, I can do that. Do you know when you work this week?”
I shake my head. “Not yet, but the schedule should be posted tonight. I’ll write it down and leave it on the table for you.”
Mom nods, then sighs, looking across from me with a bittersweet glint in her eyes. “So, we’re doing this now, huh? My baby is growing up.”
“It was bound to happen,” I tell her.
“Benjamin Button is a lie.”
I smile, feeling a lot better now that we’ve talked. “Well, I better go take a shower and get ready for work.”
At first she nods and doesn’t say anything while I stand, but I can tell there’s something still brewing in her head by the look on her face. Before I make it out of the kitchen, she calls, “Hey.”
I stop and turn back. “Yeah?”
“So… you and Hunter are together now? It’s official?”
My spirits fall just a little. “Um… no. It’s not official. I mean, he’s not my boyfriend or anything, but… I don’t really know how to explain it.”
She frowns faintly. “Uh huh.”
“It’s complicated,” I say, a touch more nervous. I know I made some progress on her opinion about Hunter and opening up to the prospect of giving him a chance, but I also know she can shut that down just as easily if she gets a whiff of something she doesn’t like.
“Complicated,” she echoes.
“Because of me,” I add. “I just don’t know if I necessarily want to be his girlfriend. We have such different lives. I let him give me a ride home from homecoming after Anderson and I broke up, and his friends… they’re just not the crowd I love to be around. Anyway, I don’t want to put a lot of pressure on it right now. I don’t feel the need to define things.”
“Right,” she says uncertainly. “Well, I was just thinking if he is your boyfriend now, I should probably meet him. Maybe we could do a family dinner, have Ray over, invite Hunter…”
I nod. “I don’t think it’s time for that right now, but if anything changes, I’ll let you know.”
Mom nods, but she still looks a little troubled.
I need to get ready and I don’t want to get drawn any deeper into this conversation since it went kind of well, so I turn to leave again.
Before I go, she says, “Hey, Riley?”
I turn back. “Yes, Mom?”
“I haven’t… instilled a fear of commitment in you... right?”
I’m so stunned, I can’t quite hide it. “What? No, of course not.”
She’s still frowning, but she nods like she wants to believe me. “Okay.”
___
Between waiting on tables, bringing out food, and cleaning up as I go, my closing shift flies by.
Normally, I can check my phone at least once or twice, but tonight I don’t get to it until the last customer is out and I’ve started on my closing work. While the other waitress sweeps the floor, I slide into a booth and start wrapping silverware.
I sneak my phone out of my apron real quick to check it since I haven’t all night. A smile claims my lips when I see a text from Hunter.
The message reads, “What do you think of this one? I like the balcony.”
Balcony?
I click the link he sent me and see a three bedroom, two bathroom home in Boston.