Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 88078 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88078 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Gunner was finally walking. Sage was starting a dance class next week. Keller just got stitches along his hairline after he face-planted into the railing of the porch. Gavin pooped in the toilet twice that week! Success!
What the fuck was I going to do?
I threw the stick angrily into the trash and stormed into my bedroom-slash-living-room-slash-dining-room, then immediately spun back around and fished it back out again, setting it gently on the edge of the bathroom counter. So I peed on it, big deal. It was still proof, the first visible proof of my child.
My child. God, I was in so much trouble.
I quickly pulled on some clothes and grabbed my messenger bag off the floor, stuffing my laptop inside before racing out the door. I normally didn’t bring my Mac when I was hanging out with the kids—it was a good way to get something spilled on it—but I knew I’d need it that day. I needed to research. I needed to plan.
My stomach rolled as I climbed into my car, and I swallowed the extra saliva in my mouth. I was not going to get sick again. I’d already hacked up the chicken chow mein I’d ingested last night, and the peanut butter and jelly sandwich I’d had for lunch yesterday, and the Cheerios I’d had for breakfast. I didn’t have time to get rid of the water I’d had that morning—I was already running late because of that stupid test.
I pulled into Shane’s driveway two minutes late and hopped out of the car, taking a second to brace myself against the hood. Okay, no quick movements unless one of the kids was about to break their arm. Right. I just needed to take it easy.
I hadn’t even made it to the front door before Shane was outside and walking past me to his truck.
“You’re late,” he called over his shoulder, his boots hitting the driveway at a steady clip.
“I had an emergency.”
He came to an abrupt halt at my words and turned to take me in, his eyes sliding over my body. “You okay?”
“Yeah, I just—”
“I’m gonna be late for work,” he cut in, turning back around. “We need to talk tonight when I get back.”
“You have no idea,” I grumbled as he climbed inside his truck and drove away.
Shit, I was tired. I’d been waking up to puke for the last two nights, and the lack of sleep made me feel like I was in a fog half the time. I was a person who needed a solid eight hours, and for the past few days I’d been getting less and less.
I fell onto the couch with a groan and pulled the blanket off the back to cover myself up. I’d just rest for a little while before I had to wake Sage for school.
* * *
“Auntie Kate! Auntie Kate, wake up. It’s time for school,” Sage called quietly, shaking my shoulder.
“Shit!” I woke with a start and sat straight up.
“Shit!” Gavin called from across the room.
“Shit!” Gunner copied him.
“Don’t say shit!”
“Shit!”
“Shit!”
“Are we late?” I asked Sage as I slid my feet into my flip-flops.
“No, but we have to leave right now,” she answered emphatically, already walking toward the door.
“Wait! Where’s Keller?”
“I think he’s still asleep!”
I ran up the stairs, my stomach churning so badly I had a hard time catching my breath.
“Kell, let’s go, bud,” I called as I picked him up. “Gotta get sis to school.”
He woke up as we made our way back downstairs, and I let him walk barefoot out of the house while I carried Gunner. We didn’t have time for silly things like shoes or Gunner’s increasingly nasty diaper.
“Everyone in their seats!” I called as I lifted Gavin into his seat with one arm. “Go around to the other side, Keller!”
The kids climbed into my car, Keller scrambling over the backseat to get to his place in the third row. God, I was so glad I’d traded in my smaller car for something more along the lines of an SUV last year. They’d all fit, but how the hell was I going to cart five kids around on a daily basis?
My nausea increased as I made sure all the kids were buckled in and hopped into my seat. My hands shook as I pulled the keys out of my pocket, and I took a deep breath as I fit one into the ignition.
There was no need to worry about tomorrow, I warned myself as we drove to Sage’s elementary school. I just needed to worry about now. I just needed to get Sage to school on time and—
“Sage, did you eat breakfast?”
“I had a Pop-Tart.”
“Okay, I forgot to make your lunch so—”
“Can I buy lunch?” she asked excitedly, bouncing in her seat.
Why did the packed-lunch kids always want to buy cafeteria food and the hot-lunch kids always dream of a packed sandwich?