Total pages in book: 40
Estimated words: 36964 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 185(@200wpm)___ 148(@250wpm)___ 123(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 36964 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 185(@200wpm)___ 148(@250wpm)___ 123(@300wpm)
“I’ve got you.” Boston swoops me up in his arms yet again. God, I really hope none of the guests or employees have seen more than they need to today. He’s fast, using his shoulder to press the switch to the on position. Artificial light blares down on us, and I catch a glimpse of Boston and myself in the mirror. He looks no worse for the wear, while I’m the one who looks ten shades of white, with dark circles beneath my eyes.
“This is not how I imagined telling you or how my day would go. You can let me down. Close the door on your way out.” My feet hit the cold tile floor, and I realize yet again that Boston has completely taken care of me. Socks are the only thing on my feet.
“I’ll be staying here.” The retort lodges in my throat. I flip up the lid to the toilet, gather the loose tresses of my hair, and toss it to the side in a makeshift ponytail right when my stomach revolts. The noise is disgusting, and the only thing I can think about is how I didn’t even drink to get this way. There was no walking down Bourbon Street, day drinking with my best friend to deserve this shitty feeling. Nope, it’s Boston’s child inside me saying, “Hey, Mom, eating for the foreseeable future is off the table.” Gee, thanks. This is a party favor I would have liked to politely said no thank you to.
“Christ, Amelie. Nessa is a nurse. You’ve fainted, now you’re dry heaving. I’m either calling my best friend’s wife or an ambulance. Your choice.” I hear the water running. My head is resting on my arm while I attempt to regain a semblance of my bearings. Pretty sure I’m zero for zero on that today.
“I’m better. Eggs. The smell. It triggers nausea. Luckily, I hadn’t eaten yet this morning, or it would have been really bad. You’re not calling an ambulance. Women have been knocked up for centuries upon centuries. None of them had some crazy alpha-possessive man carting them off to the hospital with a pregnancy diagnosis.” Boston hands me another wet washcloth. I wipe it down my face and neck, wiping away the sweat from my body purging absolutely nothing.
“Fine. You pass out again, your ass is going to the hospital. I barely fucking got to you. Jesus, you took years off my life, Amelie.” His hand goes out to mine. I take it, still wobbly on the inside. I’m sure attempting to do this on my own would result in another grumble and him carrying me.
“To be fair, I wasn’t trying to pass out. Lack of food, stress, morning sickness, finding out I was pregnant this morning. I’m still trying to figure that out. We used condoms, for goodness sake. I get they’re not one hundred percent fail proof, and don’t give me that look, that thought crossed my mind for two seconds before it evaporated into thin air.” Boston has no reason to poke holes into a condom or try to cover up the fact if a condom broke. Plus, I’d feel it if he came inside me. There would have been a big mess we’d both had to deal with afterwards.
“Fuck, I can’t believe you’re pregnant with my child.” His arms wrap around me and pull me closer. My hands are tucked into my chest, fingers digging into his chest, head tipping back to look into his blue eyes I’ve missed so much.
“Yeah, me either. I really am okay, Boston.”
“I’m not one hundred percent sure how to navigate this. I know this is your body and you get the option. Fuck, I really hope we’re on the same page.” At the slightest suspicion of pregnancy, I was already planning, uncaring if Boston was in my life or not. My baby would be loved and cherished.
“Boston, I hope we are, too, and if we’re not, that would suck. I’d never make you be a part of something you didn’t want to be around for, that being my baby.” A look of relief crosses his face. I keep going, “There was never any doubt in my mind I’d be doing anything but keeping the life we created.”
“Yeah, good, I’m glad.” The infallible Boston Wescott is nervous—the swallow of his emotions, a glossiness coating his eyes… Yep, I’d say we’re totally on the same playing field. “I’m still calling Nessa. She knows about this shit. We need to get you to a doctor, keep you off your feet.” I arch both of my eyebrows, ready to roll my eyes at him next. “Find you some food that will keep you from running to the bathroom.” While the last part of his statement is sweet, my stomach is rolling once again. One thing is true: at least I was smart enough to schedule an appointment once two lines showed on the pregnancy stick. After that, I’ll tell my mom as well as Eden. I can hear the screaming from both of them, happiness, excitement, a cause for celebration. Neither of them would cast any kind of judgment. Single, married, my mom would be over the moon to have a grandchild. She was probably worried I’d never give her one, and with me being the only child, it fell on me to potentially hand Mom over what is a pot of gold in any true parent’s eyes.