Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 81333 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 407(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81333 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 407(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Grinning as I imagine her laying into my brother, I laugh. “I bet that was something to see.”
“I’m always something to see. Anyway, enough of the bromance chronicles. Tell me about what happened in Linton with Branch.”
I go into a quick version of the important details, not wanting to get into it. It feels too intimate to share with anyone, even my best friend.
Poppy watches me tell the story and, in a very un-Pop like way, doesn’t rush me. She sits in her chair, her arms at her sides, and lets me talk for a good ten minutes.
When I’m finished, she leans on the counter. “Sounds like a good time.”
“It wasn’t bad. We ended up getting along and working a few things out,” I admit. “And I kind of hate that it wasn’t a mess.”
“Why would you hate that?”
I shrug. “I appreciate that we can get along, but it hurts to be in this situation. It’s like the more good memories, the more it stings.”
“Maybe it will develop into something,” she offers. “He was pretty clear to Finn that he wants to be there for you and the baby.”
“I know he will. I believe that. But . . . damn it. Why couldn’t I be having a baby with someone that I could build something with for me too?”
“You never know.”
“No, I do know,” I say, scooting off the stool and feeling my heart drop right with my feet. “He made it clear he wants to be there for the baby and for me as its mother. Done. He even went so far as to tell me what the road was like and how many girls are at their disposal and how that’s not fair to the women who marry the players in their league.”
She stands and leans against the cabinet. “That tells me he’s aware.”
“Aware of what?”
“Of life. Of reality. That’s a good thing, Lay.” She laces her fingers together. “He doesn’t want to hurt you. Obviously. Wouldn’t you rather him be honest like this than just go through the motions and then ‘go through the motions’ with road bitches?”
“I guess.”
“You don’t guess,” she scoffs. “You know. This means he’s more mature than I think any of us thought. He’s pondered these things. That’s more than most guys do until it’s too late.”
“True. But you know what? We’re missing the point.”
“Which is . . .”
“Which is,” I say, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge, “that I don’t even want that life. I don’t want to be with a guy I can’t trust. I don’t want to worry about what he’s doing and who he’s doing and what will be said in the rag mags. I want to be cuddled up on the sofa next to him, our baby on our laps, watching the news and eating ice cream.”
She sighs. “Can you imagine him with a baby? God, my ovaries.”
“He was standing in the kitchen last night, pouring us a glass of milk. All I could think about was how sexy he would look making a bottle, you know? Then it occurred to me I’d probably never see that.” I rest my forehead on the cool counter. “This is so confusing.”
Her hand finds the back of my head. “You just relax and take care of my little goddaughter. I’m going to get us some sandwiches and we are going to eat and watch television and forget about boys.”
“This is why I love ya, Poppy.”
“I know.”
CHAPTER 26
LAYLA
Ring!
My head shoots off the island counter, the bar stool wobbling beneath me so hard I think I’m going to fall. I clamor down, rubbing my eyes, trying to figure out where I am.
The phone continues to ring as I get my bearings, the sky outside the kitchen window dark. Glancing at the clock, it’s just past ten. The last I knew it was eight-thirty when I sat down to work on an advertising contract.
Ring!
“Shit,” I grumble, grabbing my lit-up phone and pulling it to my ear. “Hello?”
“Hey.” His voice is quiet, warm like a fleece blanket on a cold winter night. “Were you asleep?”
“Yeah. I fell asleep in the kitchen. Must’ve been tired.”
“Are you getting enough sleep? Eating enough?” he chuckles. “We know you’re eating enough.”
“Go to hell,” I laugh, yawning. “I was up late last night. Guess I can’t be doing that anymore.”
“What were you doing?”
“A little of this, a little of that.”
“Huh.” He takes a deep breath, blowing out slowly. “I just wanted to check on you. See how you were doing. I haven’t talked to you since yesterday afternoon.”
His sincerity is on the surface, not at all hidden. The tenor of his voice gentler than I have heard. There’s an intimacy to it that causes me to fall back into the cabinet.
“I’m good. Hanging in there, you know?” I say. “How are you?”