Total pages in book: 131
Estimated words: 126682 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 633(@200wpm)___ 507(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126682 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 633(@200wpm)___ 507(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
“Thanks.” I take her hand and give a squeeze. “That means a lot to me.”
Her smile is rueful. “Shall we make you feel better?”
“Please. I really need to eat, but the sight of food alone makes me sick.”
“That won’t do, especially as you’re breastfeeding,” she says, going to the bathroom.
While scrubbing her hands in the basin, she calls from the open door, “Any idea where you’ll go?”
“I’m still thinking about that.” When she returns, I say, “I haven’t told Livy yet. I’ll appreciate it if you don’t mention anything until I’ve had time to speak to her.”
Fitting a pair of surgical gloves, she says, “Of course.”
“Thanks, Nicole. For everything. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”
“Don’t mention it, darling.” She pushes up my sleeve and uses a disinfectant swab to clean a patch of skin on my uninjured bicep. “This should help immediately.” She empties the vial into the syringe. “If it doesn’t, I want you to call me.”
I flinch at the prick of the needle when it pierces my skin. “Let’s hope that won’t be necessary. I’ve bothered you enough as it is.”
“Not at all.” She injects the medicine into my arm. “I’m happy to help.” After discarding the vial and the needle in a zip-lock bag, she removes the gloves and throws everything in the trash can. “Calling me goes for not feeling okay in a non-physical way too.” She pats my hand. “I’m here for you.”
“Thanks,” I whisper, biting hard on my lip not to cry.
“I wish I could stay longer, but I better get going. Logan invited his parents for dinner a long time ago, and I don’t want to cancel.”
I get to my feet. “I understand.”
She makes a sad face. “When you’re falling apart, we’ll make an illegal fire in my backyard and grill marshmallows. We’ll top that off with lots of chocolate and wine.”
I laugh through the tears that I can’t contain any longer. “That sounds kind of wonderful.”
She gives me a hug. “Take care of yourself, darling.”
Sniffing, I pull away. “I am. That’s why I have to do this.”
She gathers her bag and leaves me with a promise to call soon.
Once alone, I use the time to finish packing, taking only a few outfits. The future seems daunting, and the unknown is scary, but I’ve done this before. I can do it again.
While I work, I try to come up with a plan. First, I need to decide where Claire and I are going. I need to rent an apartment and find a job. My car was a gift, but I don’t want to take anything from Saverio. Pride dictates that I make it on my own. Maybe I’ll just use the car until I’m on my feet and my financial situation is stable enough to afford one.
As Nicole promised, the effect of the injection is immediate. The nausea is something of the past, and now that I no longer feel sick at the thought of food, I’m starving.
Reluctant to run into Saverio, I tiptoe to the kitchen where I rummage through the fridge. I have a terrible craving for plain Greek yoghurt with honey. Having found my prize, I snatch it from the fridge and carry it to the island counter where I dribble honey over the half gallon of yoghurt and eat it straight from the container.
Yum, this tastes amazing.
It’s so good to eat again that I’m scraping the bottom of the pot before I know it. I lick the spoon clean and put it in the dishwasher. Feeling considerably better, I pour a glass of milk and polish that off too.
Thanks, Nicole. You’re a life saver.
Rubbing my content stomach, I go upstairs to shower and change. Claire will need to be breastfed soon. I can use the time under the relaxing spray of the warm water to think of a way to tell Livy I’m leaving with Claire. We have a lot to talk about. Maybe she’ll decide to continue working at After Dark. She seems to love the job. Plus, she’s cut out for it.
When I pull the T-shirt over my head, I wince at the pain in my arm. I’ll ask Livy to help me clean the wound and change the bandage after my shower. Nicole covered it with a waterproof plaster. Yet the pull from the stitches and the burn in my bicep where the bullet lodged into my muscle aren’t the only aches. The brush of the cotton over my nipples is painfully uncomfortable. My breasts ache, and they’re more swollen than usual. Maybe they’re sore because I’m overdue for expressing milk, but it’s the thin blue veins running underneath the pale, tautly stretched skin that give me pause.
The nausea, the tenderness, and the cravings are all symptoms I had when I was pregnant with Claire. It’s impossible that I’m pregnant again. Saverio is infertile. I saw the tests with my own eyes. Yet I can’t squash the sliver of doubt that wormed its way into my mind.