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)
“Of course.”
Holding my breath, I feel his hands slow down until they’re eventually resting on top of my feet. I have no idea what he’s going to say and it makes me want to vomit.
Hearing the baby’s heartbeat was the most amazing thing I’ve ever done. It was a connection to the inside of me I had to go to the outside to get. Having Branch there, watching his reaction, was the sweetest part of all.
His eyes lit up like he was mesmerized, his hand clenching mine for all it was worth. I couldn’t tell if he was scared or shocked or overjoyed, and he didn’t mention it on the way home. He didn’t speak much at all. I pretended to sleep and he just drove, and with every mile that went by, I felt a little more unnerved.
He takes a deep breath. “What if . . . what if we were wrong?”
My heart skips two beats. “If you were wrong about anything, I wouldn’t be surprised. But me? I’m never wrong,” I joke, hoping to calm my nerves. It doesn’t work.
“I think you were this time.”
I open my eyes to see him watching me closely. It’s my favorite look on him, the one that’s as soft as it is tough. There’s a glimmer in his eye. The way he licks his lips makes me wonder if he’s nervous too.
“What’s wrong, Branch?”
“What if . . .” he shuffles in his seat. “We keep talking about things like it’s me and you. What if it isn’t me and you? What if there’s no me and you?”
Trying to sit up, I’m stopped by him clamping down on my feet. My heart stills as I look at him.
“What if it isn’t me and you, Sunshine?”
“I don’t understand,” I gulp, a hand falling to my stomach. He watches it rest against my navel before he looks back at me.
“What if it’s . . . us?” he whispers.
“Branch . . .”
I’m glad he doesn’t speak because I couldn’t hear him over the roar in my ears anyway. My heart is beating so damn hard I’m lightheaded.
Wetness pricks my eyes but it doesn’t fall. Shock prevents that. I just look at him and try to gather what he really means from his face, but the look of sincerity doesn’t change.
His hand comes down gently on top of mine, applying a small dose of pressure to my stomach. My heart nearly bursts in my chest, the lump in my throat refusing to allow any words by. Instead, I just take in the worry lines on his forehead and the clear blue in his eyes.
“I’ve been thinking it for a while now about you and me and what we might’ve been and what we could be,” he says. “Then I heard the baby today. God, wasn’t that amazing?”
All I can do is nod and hold my breath, waiting for him to continue.
He reaches out and tips my chin towards him so I have no other choice but to look him in the eye. “I have reservations about whether I should do this or not, but looking at you lying by me, thinking about that motherfucker in here . . .”
“Max?”
“Whatever his name was,” he sighs. “This thing with you isn’t going to go away. As a matter of fact, it’s getting worse.”
“This thing with me?” I say, my voice crackling.
“It started the day I saw you. It got worse when I saw the sex therapy card, almost fell out of control at the festival, and spun so far past me when we were together that night that I knew there was no turning back. I just didn’t want to fuck you all up, but I already had, in another way.”
I try to speak, but only a whimper comes out as salty liquid streams down my face. He pulls me into a hug, laying me across his lap, and holding me so hard I can barely breathe.
Wrapping my hands in his shirt, I press my cheek against his heart. It’s beating loud and strong, just like our baby’s was just a little while ago. The thought makes me smile through the tears.
“I don’t know what this means,” he admits. “I know there are still things we have to work out and I can’t figure out how to protect you from my life. I just know I want to be here every day to check on you, for you to know I have your back, to make sure our baby gets Popsicles.”
“What?” I laugh, wiping away tears.
“Nothing.”
Pulling away, I look into his sweet, blue eyes. “We had very real reasons to not be together and those aren’t going to go away.”
He pulls me all the way into his lap so I’m facing him. “I know that and we’d be stupid to pretend they aren’t real. But . . . I think we’re stupid to also pretend that you and I are strangers. When I look at you, I don’t see a random girl. I see a girl I want to get to know and see what happens.”