Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 94279 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 471(@200wpm)___ 377(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94279 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 471(@200wpm)___ 377(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Whitney finished her pretzel and crumpled up the wax paper it had been served on. “Let’s go to Sephora and then Baby Gap.”
We’d just gone to the makeup store a week ago, and I couldn’t remember the last time she’d even worn makeup. Yet I bit my tongue again and stood. “Sure.”
The line at the cash register was a mile long, so I got in it while she finished shopping. On our way out, I noticed a guy standing in front of the store, directly across the way. He looked familiar, and it seemed like he was watching us. I’d noticed him earlier, too, when we were at the food court. But I chalked it up to a guy checking out Whitney. Pregnant or not, she turned heads. I lifted my chin, gesturing across the way.
“Do you know that guy?”
She looked over, but the guy had already started walking. “No. But let’s go.”
“I thought you wanted to go to Baby Gap?”
“My feet are too swollen.”
I wasn’t about to complain. I hated the damn mall. Though in hindsight, maybe her not wanting to finish maxing out my card at the mall again should’ve been a hint that something was off.
* * *
“Will you rub my feet before you go?”
I needed to get home and study, but ten minutes more wouldn’t kill me. Whitney’s studio apartment wasn’t much bigger than my dorm room, and it was packed with crap, piles everywhere. I took a box of shoes and some unopened mail from the couch and patted the seat next to me. Her head drooped as I lifted her feet onto my lap and dug my thumbs into the ball of her right foot.
“Did you talk to your parents about dinner next week yet?” I asked.
She sighed. “My dad’s too sick for that.”
“I thought you said he was feeling better?”
“He was for a little while, but he’s not now.”
“Maybe he’ll feel better by next weekend?”
“I doubt it.”
My father was coming into town and wanted to meet Whitney’s family. She’d already met my family twice, and they weren’t the ones who lived locally. I hadn’t met either of her parents or her brother yet. Come to think of it, the only friend I’d met of hers was Ashley, who we’d run into at the mall.
“I’d like to meet them before the baby comes…”
She pushed my hand from her feet. “I can’t help it if he doesn’t feel well. Chemotherapy isn’t easy, you know.”
My brows knitted. “I thought you said he’d finished his treatment.”
“I didn’t say that.”
I was pretty certain she had, because she’d said it the day after my mother’s last round of chemo. And I remembered commenting about the timing. “Are you sure?”
“Of course I’m sure.” She stood. “Can we not talk about cancer? It’s upsetting for me to think about.”
I’d learned a lot about Whitney these last few months, the most important tidbit being that she had a tell when she lied. She talked faster than usual and tried to change the subject or walk away as quickly as possible—exactly like she was doing now. I was just about to call her on it, when she grabbed her stomach.
“Oh my God.”
I jumped up. “What?”
She smiled. “I felt the baby move.”
“Really?”
She reached for my hand and set it on the lower part of her belly. “Here. Let’s see if it happens again.”
We were both quiet for a few minutes, but I didn’t feel anything. Then all of a sudden, I did—a subtle shift beneath my fingers—almost like a small ball rolling, pushing against her skin. My eyes widened. “I felt it!”
“Isn’t it wild?”
I’d had five months for it to sink in that Whitney was carrying my child, and I was going to be a father. I thought it had. But something changed in that moment—and it hit me hard. I’m going to be a dad. Soon.
I looked down at my hand on her belly with a sense of wonderment. “That’s our baby.”
She laughed. “No shit, Sherlock.”
I swallowed. “We need to find a place to live. A house with a yard.”
“Us? You mean move in together?”
I nodded. “Shouldn’t we? We’re going to be a family.”
Whitney smiled. “I’ll start looking tomorrow.”
25
SLOANE
“What time is your flight tonight?” I leaned closer to the mirror, brushing on mascara.
“Eight.” Wilder came up behind me. He reached around and tugged the belt to my bathrobe. It fell open, revealing that I hadn’t put on my bra yet, only my panties. He cupped a breast in each hand and squeezed, burying his head in my neck for a kiss. It felt good, but I was going to be late if I didn’t hurry.
“Don’t even think about it, Mr. Hayes. I have to get to work. I have a packed day, starting with a department meeting at nine.”
“Mr. Hayes, huh?” He nipped at my earlobe. “I like it. I vote you stay home from work and we play asshole boss/naughty employee.”