Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 103988 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 520(@200wpm)___ 416(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103988 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 520(@200wpm)___ 416(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
No, this torture I’m forcing us to endure is more out of fear than anything else, fear that this thing might be concrete and real and good for me. It makes sense on so many levels. We both want each other, we both want this child, we both understand medicine and the demands of our jobs. A laugh bubbles out of me as I realize how foolish I’ve been. Poor Connor. God, I can’t imagine what he’s thinking right now. He’s been nothing short of a saint, and now, here I am again prepared to flip the script on him.
Maybe I should just buy a ring and propose, put us both out of our misery. Nothing is more real than marriage, right? There can be no questions about what I feel for him and what I want for our future if I present him with a wedding ring, right?
Unfortunately, there’s not a jeweler on my way home, and also I have no idea what his ring size is. Instead, I’ll settle on a homecooked meal and a heartfelt apology. Sorry I’m so insane. Sorry I’ve pushed you away for months. The truth is I’m more comfortable in the operating room than in the bedroom. I’m a fool for thinking I could ever experience one night with you and not want a million more. Please, let’s make this as officially official as we can. I love you.
I unlock the front door of the townhouse, going over my prepared speech in my head, then hear voices carry out from the living room. Frowning, I step through the foyer, wondering how it’s possible Connor beat me home from the hospital. But then, I realize that voice doesn’t belong to Connor.
It’s Noah, beaming at me in the kitchen as I walk in, holding up a beer in a mock salute.
“Surprise!”
“You look like I just came back from the dead,” Noah says with a laugh.
I try to retrain my face but fail miserably.
“What are you doing here?” is the first thing I ask, which is a mistake because I think Noah was looking for a resounding WELCOME HOME followed by a spray of confetti, or at least a hug. I haven’t gone near him. He’s in the kitchen with a few friends. The TV is on. The grill is going out back. I can’t believe it. I keep blinking as though they’ll all disappear at any moment.
Noah rounds the island and heads toward me so our conversation isn’t subject to an audience. “I thought you’d appreciate the gesture,” he says, frowning. “I had a few days off so I flew back to see you instead of hanging out in an empty hotel. What’s going on? You look off.”
“What? No. It’s nothing. Long day. I had to work in the clinic.”
I’m too emphatic, the mark of a terrible liar.
He groans. “Clinic sucks.”
I agree with a nod. “Yeah. So you’re home for how long?”
“About a week.”
“Oh, really? That long?”
“Jesus, Natalie.”
I cringe, hearing how nasty I sound. Then I step forward and hug him, letting my cheek hit his chest. He doesn’t hug me back right away, clearly confused by how I’m reacting to his presence, but eventually he caves and hugs me tight. It feels good to have my brother home. I did miss him. I just would have liked a little heads-up before his imminent return, that’s all.
“I invited some people over tonight,” he says when I step away. “I went to the store and grabbed some food, and I bought the ingredients for you to make that German chocolate cake I love so much. I’ve been craving it for months.”
“Um, yeah. Okay. Um…okay.” I look around the room. “Tonight? You want everyone to come over tonight?”
I don’t know why I’m asking this. There are already people here. Only a handful, but judging from the mountain of food splayed out on the counter, I’m sure he’s invited more. There’s guacamole and bean dip and a charcuterie board filled with meats and cheeses. There’s queso and chips and oh my God, did he invite a few friends or Harvard’s entire freshman class?
He laughs. “Yeah, tonight.” He says it mockingly, like I might have a screw loose. “Do you have other plans? It’s Friday. You’re not on call, are you?”
Boy do I wish I was.
“No. Not this weekend.”
He beams. “Great, then go change and I’ll make you a drink.”
A DRINK.
Reality smacks me like a rubber band.
I can’t drink. I can’t eat uncured deli meat or any of that soft cheese up on the counter. So help me God, it’s going to be very awkward if Noah brings me a Corona or a salami slice. None for me, thanks. I had a big lunch. Also, surprise! I’m PREGNANT with your future niece or nephew, AND your best friend is the dad.