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)
“Just finished a workout and dinner.”
“What did you have?”
“I threw some chicken breasts in the oven. Nothing fancy.”
“I’m impressed. I don’t even bake chicken breasts. I just buy them in the deli,” I laugh.
“You need to eat red meat more than chicken. The iron is good for you and the baby.”
My jaw drops. “What?”
“I . . . um . . . I was asking the nutritionist today that we work with at the Legends facility. She said to make sure you’re eating lots of iron and folate and calcium. There’s a delivery service where you can order plans especially for pregnant women and—”
“Branch. I’m good,” I say softly. “I know what to do.”
“I just want to help.”
His words hit my heart, but it’s the way he says it that slays me. Tears flicker in my eyes, making the lights look like kaleidoscopes. “I really appreciate that.”
“I hope you don’t get mad,” he says, a hitch in his voice, “but I ordered you five boxes a week. They’ll be delivered. If you don’t like what they send, you can go online and customize them. But I thought, you know, maybe it would make things a little easier for you.”
“That’s super sweet,” I whisper.
There’s a pause in the conversation, not exactly an awkward moment, but one we haven’t traversed yet. It’s born more out of respect and consideration than a failure to know what to say.
“I go to the doctor the day after tomorrow,” I tell him. “If you want to go, you can, but you totally don’t have to. I’ll let you know whatever they say.”
“What time is it?”
“Four.”
“I’d like to go, if you don’t mind.”
My cheeks break into a grin. Heading down the hallway, I flop onto my bed, one hand on my stomach. “Want to meet me there?”
“Could I pick you up?” he asks. “Maybe we could grab dinner or something? I don’t know. It just feels like something we should do together, right? Or am I wrong?”
“I’d like that.”
“Good.” He clears his throat. “So, did you ever get your boxes unpacked?”
Looking around my room, I see the stacks of cardboard. Some are empty, some are full, and I have no energy to care. “No. They’re still looking at me. Some of them, anyway. I’ve decided you might be right and I’ll just trash them.”
He laughs. “We can have a bonfire together. Just burn it all to the ground.”
“Sounds better than unpacking at the moment,” I yawn. “A lot of it is just extra stuff for the guest room—baby’s room, I guess, now—and things that I have nowhere to put.”
“I’m going to have to get one of these rooms ready for a baby. How do I do that?”
“I don’t know,” I admit. “A crib. A changing table, maybe, if you’ll use it. I don’t think a baby really needs that much. A lot of people just get excited and want to buy it all.”
“What camp do you fall in—buy it or don’t buy it?”
“My heart says buy it but my budget says don’t,” I admit. “I figure between the two of us, we’ll have a good balance. I’ll keep the baby frugal and you can spoil it.”
“A guy in the locker room today was showing this video of his kid in one of those cars that look like real cars, right? They’re battery operated and they really drive them around. Have you seen these things?”
“Yes,” I say, grinning at his excitement.
“Our kid is going to have a fucking fleet of those things.”
We laugh, Branch’s a little self-conscious and that makes my heart swell.
“Just try to save it for a birthday or Christmas,” I suggest. “Don’t just get things because it’s a Tuesday.”
“I’ll try. No promises.” He takes a deep breath. “I’ve been thinking about what it will be like when the baby comes. There’s so much you don’t think about until you think about it.”
I lay the back of my hand across my forehead as I listen to him speak.
“You’ll be a great mom, Sunshine.”
“Thanks,” I say around the lump in my throat. “Our baby will be lucky to have you as her dad.”
There’s a giant pause. “Thank you,” he whispers.
“For what?”
“I don’t know. For believing that I can do this. For not writing me off from day one or sticking it to me when I was a dick when you told me. You’ve definitely proved you’re the better person, but it’s not like we didn’t know that already.” He blows out a breath. “I need to go so you can go to sleep. But I just want to say one more thing.”
“What?”
“I don’t want you to be scared to call me.”
The lump grows bigger, merging with the swelling of my heart, and I can’t speak.
“I have a lot going on,” he says slowly, “and as the season gets started, it’s gonna get crazy. I don’t want you to hesitate to tell me if you need something or think I’d want to know something, okay?”