Total pages in book: 156
Estimated words: 144696 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 723(@200wpm)___ 579(@250wpm)___ 482(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 144696 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 723(@200wpm)___ 579(@250wpm)___ 482(@300wpm)
I hoped we did have a chance. That was the worst part. The pregnancy had come at the worst possible time. My epic fuck up with Porteras had knocked us off our balance, and I think he finally realized that even though we'd met six years ago, we’d really only known each other for a short time. Maybe we were more in love with the ideal versions of one another that we’d created in our heads. Now that we'd had the “maybe we should break up” conversation, could we ever repair our relationship again?
I didn’t want to make the wrong decision and keep the baby just to see if I could keep Neil, too. I didn't entirely trust myself on that one, considering the fact I had Googled strollers the night before. But a baby didn't solve anything. It would just create more problems, and until the moment I faced this pregnancy, I had never once imagined I would have kids.
Neil’s last romantic relationship had fallen apart because his ex-wife had wanted children, and he hadn’t. Granted, there had also been the hint of ulterior motive there; she’d only wanted kids after a clause in their prenup had assured her hefty child support payments. With that in mind, I couldn’t imagine he was going to be thrilled with this news. He might think I had done this on purpose; that would make a reconciliation even less likely.
A long, hot shower was exactly what I needed. Getting out and finding an empty apartment was nice, too. I love Holli and, to a lesser extent because I haven't known her as long, Deja, but their care and concern for me had started to feel a little bit like suicide watch. Which was completely unnecessary. I was down, but I wasn't that down. And it wasn't their job to cheer me up.
I was carefully towel drying my hair when I heard Feist's “Leisure Suite” playing from the kitchen.
That was Neil’s ringtone.
My heart leapt into my throat, and I wondered if I could actually choke on it and die. It might have been preferable to answering the phone.
Still, I went out and got it, and hit the green answer button on the screen. “Hello?”
“Sophie, are you all right?” His voice was so full of concern, and I was so relieved to hear from him, I started crying.
So, we were off to a good start.
I forced my sobs to painful silence and, with the skill of Meryl Streep in a movie she actually cared about and wasn't just chewing the scenery in, I faked a chipper, “Yeah. I'm fine. What about you?”
“I’m out of the hospital, I just got home.” He paused, and I could perfectly picture his expression, the vertical wrinkle between his eyebrows as he frowned. “You called me... eleven times the night I went into the hospital.”
“I-I was worried about you.” I'm pregnant, I'm freaked out, and I want us to be how we were two weeks ago.
“These calls all came before Emma let you know I was in the ER. I looked at the call history, Sophie. Please, will you tell me what's going on?”
I couldn't. I couldn't tell him over the phone. “Look, I have somewhere I'm supposed to be, but I really need to talk to you in person. Can I see you tonight?”
“Of course. Come for dinner. Emma is heading back to England today, and I have something I need to discuss with you, as well.” He paused. “I missed you, Sophie.”
My heart twisted in my chest. I had missed him, too. But I had no idea how our conversation was going to go tonight. We might get back together. We might not. I might change my mind about this whole baby thing. I had no clue, and the uncertainty made my head throb.
“Are you okay?” I asked him, and it was a real struggle not to burst out weeping. “I mean, you’re out of the hospital, so, that's good, right?”
“I’m glad to be home.” It was a non-answer, and I didn't like that at all,but I wasn't going to press him. I wasn’t being entirely forthcoming either. “We’ll talk tonight. Seven o'clock, would that be all right? I'll have Sue make something. Anything you'd like.”
“Whatever you pick will be fine, really.” Why couldn't we just talk like normal people right now? Why couldn't we just say what we wanted to each other, instead of speaking like strangers?
“All right. I'll see you then.” Before I could hang up, he added, “Sophie?”
“Mmhm?” I didn’t trust my voice.
“I-look forward to seeing you.”
Not “I love you.” Not “I’m sorry.”
I stared down at the phone in my hand long after I'd hung up, willing it to ring again.
It didn't.
That night, I took a taxi to Neil’s apartment, the glossy printout from the doctor’s office in my lap the entire way.