Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 87940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
I take her hand and squeeze it. “I’m sorry. You don’t deserve this and I know you’re not, but I’m mad at him for this.”
Her fingers reflexively grip mine. “You still casually banging Bain?”
The memories of this morning make my blood flow hot. There was a desperation to our fucking. We’re only going to be apart for two days and yet it feels like forever. I grin at her. “Every chance I can.”
“Is that going anywhere?”
I wave my hand dismissively. “Nah. We’re just having fun and neither of us are interested in commitment.”
“Are you both seeing other people too?” Her tone carries a hint of curiosity.
“Who needs other people? Bain is a beast and more than enough for me to handle.”
Her jaw drops and I grin at her. I love shocking my sweet friend.
“Does Drake know or have any clue?”
“There’s no sense in him knowing since it’s not going anywhere. I’m sure we’ll fizzle soon.”
“Doesn’t sound like you’ll fizzle the way you called him a beast,” she quips.
God, I hope we don’t fizzle. I don’t ever want to give him up. I nod to her cup. “Finish your tea. Let’s go shopping… a little retail therapy.”
♦
Pushing my cart along the grocery aisle, I think about my day with Danica. Our retail therapy was good for both of us. We both have men who confound us and it was nice to get lost in friendship. We tried on clothes that were far too expensive for either of us to purchase and the sales ladies knew it. There was giggling on the scale of thirteen-year-old girls, but it lightened her heart and that was worth it.
I declined her invitation to lunch as I was feeling a little off. I chalk it up to the very late night I had with Bain, followed by the very early wake-up he gave me. I’m one of those people who needs eight hours of sleep or I operate at the level of a zombie.
Because Bain has pretty much eaten me out of house and home, I decided to do a quick grocery run to get me through the next few days. Without him to feed, my grocery bill will be significantly less, but in fairness to him, he usually pays for the food. The few times we’ve gone out for dinner or to a bar for a drink, he’s always grabbing the check.
He pays for everything now that I think about it and that feels an awful lot like dating. It’s not his fault either. I let him do it.
I meander the aisles, picking up things I normally buy. I’m not an impulse shopper and it’s a breezy trip through the market to grab the essentials.
In the personal hygiene section, I grab some deodorant as I’m getting low and snag a box of tampons.
My hand freezes on the box, a cold feeling of dread sweeping through me and coalescing in my stomach where it forms a painful knot. Clarity dawns upon me in an instant.
I didn’t get my period.
A quick mental calculation—I’m almost a week late.
“Oh God,” I murmur, dropping the tampons in the aisle.
A young girl with bright red hair coming the opposite way carrying a handbasket picks up the box and hands it to me. “Here you go.”
“Thanks,” I murmur, accepting the nice deed with a shaky hand.
She frowns at me. “Are you okay?”
“Um… yeah.” The quavering voice says I’m lying, but I manage a smile. “Thanks.”
“Sure thing.”
When she moves on, I place the tampons in the cart, confident that if I buy them, I’ll need them soon.
But you’re regular as clockwork, Kiera. You’re not going to be needing them for a long damn time.
I squeeze my eyes shut and shake my head. “Nope. No. Not happening.”
Determined, I look around the small selection of hygiene care and don’t see what I need. I leave my cart and move to the next aisle and immediately laser in on the stock of pregnancy tests.
Feeling like a cinder block is on my chest, I grab one and head to the self-checkout. There’s a loud buzzing in my ears as I scan the box and pay for it with my credit card. From there I half run, half walk to the back of the store to the restrooms.
Somehow I manage to get the cellophane wrapping off, despite my hands trembling, and I read the instructions even though my mind is spinning. My bladder must be holding all my nerves or it might want the answer sooner rather than later as I have no problem peeing on the stick.
When I’m done, I place the test on the sink vanity and wash my hands. I start the timer on my iPhone and pace nervously near the door. I don’t dare look at it… afraid I’ll see what I don’t want to see. No one comes in to bother me and for that I’m grateful. I’m on the verge of a meltdown.