Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 93583 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 468(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93583 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 468(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
“I know that you will never forgive me,” I start saying, and she stops moving and looks at me. “I know that I have no one else to blame for that by myself. And I know that one day our child is going to ask why we aren’t together, and I’m going to take complete blame for it,” I say, my heart pounding thinking about how horrible that day will be. “It’s going to suck.”
“Carter,” she says softly, wringing her hands. “We don’t have to tell them anything.”
“No,” I tell her. “I want them to know that he or she was created with love.” I watch her with tears now running over. “That I love their mother with everything that I have, and I will never stop loving her.”
“Carter,” she says again, and I hold up my hand.
“You don’t have to say anything.” I shake my head. “You owe me nothing, and I owe you everything.” I take a deep breath. “All the good in me is because of you. That you showed me what it was like to love someone without any strings attached. You showed me that, Erin, so thank you.” I need to walk out of the room. “I’m going to go. Call me if you need anything,” I tell her and walk out the door. I walk to my car and get in, driving back home. I watch the video over and over again. I watch it until all I can do is hear the heart beating through the tears in my eyes.
I’m sitting in bed watching some infomercial when my phone rings, and I see it’s Erin. I jump up and answer it right away. “Erin?”
All I hear is sobbing and heavy breathing. “I think there is something wrong with the baby,” she says, and I’m running around the house, putting on clothes and rushing out the door. “I woke up, and there was blood,” she says, and my heart sinks as she quietly cries.
“Baby, you need to breathe,” I tell her, getting into the car. “I’m on my way right now.”
“I’m scared, Carter,” she says softly between her sobs, and I race over there. I don’t even turn the car off when I get to her house and run up the stairs. The door is open, and she is lying on the couch crying.
“Come on, baby,” I say, taking her in my arms. She wraps her arms around my neck and cries into my neck. I put her in the car and drive there with my hand in her lap. When we get to the hospital, I park the car right in front of the emergency doors, leaving the keys in and running around to get Erin. She gets out of the car, and we walk inside. The halls are quiet in the night.
The nurse looks up when we come to the desk. “I’m eight weeks pregnant, and I’m bleeding,” Erin tells the nurse, and she gets up, coming around the desk. The nurse takes us to a room and asks Erin to undress and get into bed.
We don’t say anything when she undresses and gets in the bed. I sit on the bed next to her. “Baby,” I whisper, grabbing her hand, “it’s going to be okay.”
“You don’t know that,” she tells me.
“I don’t, but I know that you’re the strongest woman I know,” I tell her. The nurse comes back into the room, wheeling equipment with her. I stand beside Erin, holding her hand. Bringing her close to me, I kiss her head, and she looks up at me. “I’m right here.”
“Okay,” the nurse says, grabbing a white bottle and squeezing some blue gel on Erin’s stomach. “This is going to be cold. I don’t know if I will be able to see like this. If not we will get the other machine.” She grabs a piece of equipment and puts it down on her stomach moving the gel around. She turns on the machine, and the baby is there. “Everything looks okay,” she says, and then we hear the swooshing sound fill the room. We look at each other, both sighing in relief. “Everything looks okay, but I’m going to have the doctor come in,” she says, turning the machine off and taking a towel and wiping Erin’s stomach. I sit on the bed next to her, pushing her hair behind her ear, and she holds her belly in her hand.
The doctor comes in and checks her, telling us that everything is okay, and that bleeding isn’t uncommon, but he would like to keep her overnight for observation. I stand by her side, making her know that I’m here for whatever support she needs. When she finally falls asleep, I get up and walk out the door, bringing out my phone. I scan until I find the name I need.