Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 74379 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74379 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
I started to laugh, which I immediately regretted.
Everything hurt.
The pain medication they’d given me earlier in the day before I’d been discharged from the hospital had worn off, and now I was feeling every single bit of the pain that was radiating through my body.
I definitely needed some of my pain medication.
“Let’s go inside so I have something to wash a pain pill down,” I replied quietly.
Reed frowned. “You’re hurting?”
I pushed open the door and steeled myself for the pain I knew was going to roll over me after I stood up, and nearly moaned when it did.
Though it’d been two weeks since my surgery, everything still hurt. Which, apparently, was normal.
My also new normal: pills. Lots of them. Anti-rejection pills at the top of that list.
I, on the other hand, thought that ‘normal’ sucked.
That, and I didn’t want to go home.
I didn’t want to be alone.
I didn’t want to be in a house without my children. Without Reed.
So, I was stalling by telling him I was starving and wanted to go to a restaurant that I knew I wasn’t quite ready for this soon after getting out of the hospital.
I shuffled inside, though, pain pill bottle clutched tightly in my hand as I did.
He arrived at my side, seeming much more at ease than I was, despite having his freakin’ kidney and half a liver removed. One would think that getting a kidney and a half of a liver would be easier.
Let me tell you something: it isn’t.
Though mine had been ‘more in depth’ he’d said, I still didn’t think that they were all that much different. Though, I wouldn’t let him go into detail. There was only so much I could take, and hearing him get all medical on me wasn’t one of those things.
However, I had had a C-section on top of the rest of my surgeries—IE my liver and kidney transplant.
My liver and kidney that used to be in Reed’s body.
I did a full body shiver, and he looked at me worriedly.
“You think they’ll give us a booth?” I asked, trying to distract him.
They did.
And two baskets of rolls—rolls that I asked for when she tried to skimp on us by only giving us three of them.
“Oh, and extra butter!”
The hostess who routed us to our table and gave us our first basket of rolls looked at me oddly.
“I just had two babies. I haven’t had this much room inside of me for a long time,” I told her defensively.
She grinned.
“How long ago?” she idly chit-chatted.
My belly clenched. “Two weeks.”
“First time out on a date with baby daddy without them?” She smiled. “I remember that time. I was so scared to leave my little girl at home with my mom, but my ex-boyfriend practically begged me to go eat with him. So, I did. It was the most miserable two hours of my life.”
I looked away.
I didn’t have a choice on whether to be away from them.
I didn’t reply to her, and when I felt Reed’s squeeze on my lower hip, I knew he felt much the same way.
Neither one of us wanted to be away, and we both knew it.
We put on a brave face, though.
Talked about what we needed to buy at the store for our children, and overall, had an excellent time sitting in a restaurant with each other.
It was like old times again. Such a surreal feeling that I wasn’t sure if I could trust the feeling inside of me—semi-contentment.
And I say semi because what would’ve made it perfect would have been to have our children at home with us. Safe, sound and within arm’s reach.
But we didn’t have that and wouldn’t for a while.
“How long do you think they’ll be in the NICU for?”
His eyes took me in.
“If we’re lucky? Two months. They’ll want the babies to get to five pounds. That’s hospital protocol. Some hospitals do four, but I agree with five. Five means that they’re more fully able to regulate their body heat, and that they have a better chance of survival outside of a hospital setting.”
My stomach clenched.
“Do you think they’ll be okay?”
His eyes searched mine, and I knew right then and there that he was trying to decide how much to tell me of what he wanted to say.
“Just be honest,” I ordered.
His smile was small.
“Okay.” He paused. “What I think is that they started off on the wrong foot with what Caria did to you. They’re monitoring their liver and kidney functions twenty-four seven. They’re trying to make sure that nothing happened to affect them with the oil that she gave you. Since we don’t know much about the plant, we don’t have much more than a basic understanding of the effects it will have on unborn children—and children who are now out of the womb.”
I looked down at my hands as a wave of sickness washed over me.