Total pages in book: 17
Estimated words: 15776 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 79(@200wpm)___ 63(@250wpm)___ 53(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 15776 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 79(@200wpm)___ 63(@250wpm)___ 53(@300wpm)
“Alright, we’ll test it out,” he says, smiling at me.
Finally. He sees me as more than a little girl. Now, I just hope I can pull this off.
Four Weeks Later
I’m in my little office trailer on the set of The Duke’s Wife. The lead actress, Camilla Rhodes, threw a temper tantrum so the director called for an hour break. I’ve been feeling like shit for a few days now, and I missed my period. I took a pregnancy test and now I’m looking at the bright pink plus sign staring back at me. I should have known Malcolm would leave a little piece of himself behind. My hands go to cradle my stomach and I smile. He left a piece of himself behind.
Immediately, I make a doctor's appointment to confirm. She can fit me in this afternoon. We are on location in Macon, so I get into my car and drive back to Savannah, making it just in time. Doctor Sanders confirms that I’m pregnant. As soon as I’m back in my car, tears of joy course down my face. I’m going to be a mother and Malcolm is the father. I should have known this would happen. He took me so many times bare. I just never thought I’d get so lucky the first time I had sex. I stare at the sonogram photo, proof of the baby growing inside of me, for a long time before driving to my Savannah office. I was due here tomorrow anyway for a meeting about my next project, so I decide to stay in town rather than driving back down to Macon tonight.
At home, I think of the best way to tell Malcolm he’s going to be a father. I decide to tell him after filming wraps up so that I can take some time off before the next project starts filming. I keep quiet about it because I want him to be the first person to know. This is the best and hardest secret I’ll ever keep.
chapter eight
Malcolm
Four suck ass weeks have passed, and I am losing my mind. Within days I knew where she was and had her new number without the help of Gladis thanks to a contact I met years ago named Hagen Jorgensen. I had decided to give it a week. Give her a week to get acclimated to her new positions and to come to terms with us, then I was going to go to her and take her. Instead, I got an emergency call from an investor in Bangkok, who wanted my company to join them in a hotel venture, but our lack of a real estate portfolio was making them nervous, and I needed to go in person and assure them. As anyone who has done business in Asia knows, they do it differently there. So, it took two and a half weeks, numerous outings, and lots of schmoozing to prove we had the balls for this. Weeks that took me away from my woman and making her mine one hundred percent.
Now, I am stuck at this family dinner, with my parents and two sisters, and my mind is anywhere but here. Evidence. “Booker, are you listening?” And here we go. My little sister, Lola, still calls me by the nickname she gave me when she was little. As the oldest, I was always busy with some sort of activity. I am 10 years older than Lola and 11 years older than Darcy. Well, when Lola was six, she lost a tooth and couldn’t say brother. It sounded like Booker. My parents thought it was adorable and the girls got a kick out of it so now, that is what they call me. “You seem awfully distracted.” She continues to say.
“I’m sorry. I am a bit distracted, Lo. There is somewhere else I need to be right now, but it is also the same place I shouldn't go.”
“Ooooo. Sounds like girl trouble.” Darcy laughs like she is making a joke but the grimace on my face shows her how serious I am. “Wait. Is it seriously girl trouble?” she asks. She tries to whisper but considering the fact that everyone stops talking and doing what they are doing to turn around and listen, I would say she wasn’t successful.
“Was it the young lady you brought to the party?” My mom asks, sipping her mimosa.
“Yes, mom. She is your future daughter in law and the mother of your grandchildren.” I answer being serious as fuck.
“She was Virgil Huxley’s daughter, wasn’t she?” My father is finally weighing in.
“She is.”
“Wait! Are you talking about Millicent Huxley? The movie producer turned writer?” I nod my head tired of answering the same question over again.
“Isn’t she supposed to marry…”
“No one but me!” I answer in no uncertain terms. My sister steps back, startled by the drum in my voice but I can’t help it. The mere thought of her with another man is going to set me off.