Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 81333 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 407(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81333 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 407(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
“Can I get you something?” he asks quietly. “A drink or a towel or something?”
“No,” I sniffle, sucking up snot that’s dripped to my lip.
“Look, Layla, I’m trying to figure out what to do. I’m not . . . this kind of a guy.”
I spin around to face him with my puppy eyes and dark circles and tear-stained cheeks. If I weren’t going to get as big as a house in the next nine months and have chipmunk cheeks and an even rounder ass, I’d be embarrassed for him to see me like this. But now? It’s the least of my worries.
“Bet you’re regretting all of this, huh?” I ask, sniffling again.
He looks at the ceiling and sighs. “I had one of the best weekends of my life. It’s almost comical how many times I’ve thought about how easy it was to be with you and how much we laughed and how . . . how I could just put my guard down. Guess I put it down a little too far, huh?”
“Well, you know I was just waiting for it to drop far enough so I could trick you into having a baby.” I stop myself. “I mean, it might not even be yours, so we should really watch how we say this, huh?”
“Layla . . .”
His words from last night, the disdain on his face when I told him the news, propel into me. When I look at him again, I don’t see the handsome, sexy guy I hoped to see again. I see the guy who thinks the worst of me.
“Your five minutes are up,” I say, willing my bottom lip not to tremble.
“We haven’t worked anything out.”
“You can have your attorney send me a—”
“Layla. Stop,” he pleads.
“I want you to leave. I need to be alone,” I lie, needing the opposite so much more. “I have a lot to figure out, and I came up here to do that, and I can’t do it with you looking at me accusingly.”
“I need you to cut me some slack.”
“Cut you some slack?” I almost shout. “You act like I’m repulsive for having the nerve to get pregnant by you. You do realize I didn’t choose this, right? You do realize this wouldn’t be my choice, right? Because as amazing as you think you are and as good of a time as we had together, if I had known this is the man you really are, I wouldn’t have gotten anywhere near you.”
I breeze by him and tug the door open. The fire in my eyes must shock him because he steps slowly to the front door. “Get out, Branch.”
He stops inches away from me and squares his broad, thick shoulders to mine. There’s a defiance in his narrowed gaze. “I’m sorry.”
“You’ve said that a couple of times.”
“I mean it.”
I put my hand on my hip and smile. “What are you sorry for?”
There’s no response, just a look that probably gets him out of most things he doesn’t want to say or do in his life.
I pull the door until it can’t get any more open. “And that’s why you’re leaving. Now.”
He storms by me, his shoes hitting the porch. The door bangs shut, putting that precious barrier between us once again. Although, this time, I hate it.
CHAPTER 21
BRANCH
The sky is dark, the stars not even that bright as I stand and look over the lawn and into the water. I’ve dreamed of this place and replayed the things we did here—me, Finn, Poppy, and Layla James—over and over. Standing here again, the magic isn’t as palpable.
With no energy to walk all the way to my car, I slump into a patio chair. If she sees me and wants to come out and yell at me some more, she can. Hell, I might even like it. God knows I deserve it.
The little seed of regret that I woke up with this morning was originally about being careless. I kept thinking of how I really messed up and what this meant for my life and how I wasn’t built for this kind of thing . . . and don’t want it. But now? It’s so much more than that.
I touch the pout of my lip and can feel the crack across the middle. There’s some flaked up blood that comes off on my finger and I flick it into the darkness.
My body aches, my mind is dead, and it’s worse than it is even after a game. Fucking Finn.
“Oh, God,” I groan, filling my lungs with oxygen as I realize I can’t do what I was going to do—call him for advice.
This emptiness, a complete feeling of having no rudder in this storm, is the most unsettling thing I’ve ever encountered. There’s no one to turn to, no one that I care about that will tell me I didn’t completely fuck up this situation because . . . I have. I so absolutely have.