Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 123922 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 620(@200wpm)___ 496(@250wpm)___ 413(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 123922 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 620(@200wpm)___ 496(@250wpm)___ 413(@300wpm)
I nodded my head. “Okay then, thank you.”
He grinned at me and exhaled again.
Whiskey breath apparently got me going.
“Take a mint or somethin’,” I whispered. “I’ll nibble you if you don’t.”
Kane licked his lips. “You like whiskey?”
My brother Dante overheard Kane’s question and it made him laugh.
“She loves whiskey, probably the smell more than the taste. If there was such thing as a whiskey scented candle, Aideen would buy hundreds.”
I glared at my brother, but couldn’t correct him because what he said was completely true. I loved the smell of whiskey.
“That’s good to know.” Kane grinned.
I growled at him. “Don’t think it will get you into me knickers.”
Kane lowered his voice and said, “I’ll just keep talking and wait for you to beg me to get into your knickers.”
I burst into laughter and it got the attention of my girlfriends.
“What’s so funny?” Bronagh asked, smiling.
I chuckled, “When one of the brothers say the word ‘knickers’ I think it’s the funniest thing ever. Their accents just butcher the word.”
Nico snorted. “Which is why we say ‘panties’ instead.”
“No!” every female at the table bellowed.
Nico jumped and quickly raised his hands up in the air. “I’m sorry.”
His brothers, and mine, laughed their arses off about how terrified Nico looked of us. It amused us girls, too.
I yawned and it caused my friends to smile at me.
“It’s nearin’ eleven, Ado. Go home.”
I groaned to Keela, “I’m ready for bed at eleven? A few months ago I didn’t go out till eleven! This is so messed up.”
Everyone laughed.
“This is the easy part, baby.” My father smirked. “You don’t sleep for the first eighteen years.”
I almost cried. “Thanks for tellin’ me that, Da.”
My father winked and smiled at me. I did too until the sudden urge to go to the bathroom hit. I groaned and stood up. “Be right back.”
“Where are you goin’?” Harley asked me.
I grunted, “The toilet.”
I glared at the table when snickers were heard.
“It’s not funny. You try havin’ the spawn of Satan sittin’ on your bladder twenty-four-seven!”
I turned and walked around the edge of the dance floor that was packed with people. I rolled my eyes at the laughter from my friends and family that followed me. I made it to the bathroom and was happy to find a vacant stall.
I quickly relieved myself and sighed while doing so. I hated going to the toilet so often, but I had to admit that peeing was the only relief I felt lately. I was now twenty-one weeks and four days pregnant, and all the little things I used to take for granted were starting to catch up with me.
My feet for example: I never had any problems with my feet. I never went jogging, but I did walk a lot and I never felt any pain, but now they were swelled up at the end of each day and hurt like a motherfucker. I didn’t know how much weight I gained so far, but I was sure it was a lot more than experts would say was healthy. I knew that much.
I also knew, thanks to Google images, that I had a big bump for almost twenty-two weeks. This scared me because I didn’t want to have a big baby—my vagina wouldn’t be able to handle it.
It was like my body had an allergic reaction to being pregnant. My feet swelled, my back hurt, my boobs hurt, I couldn’t sleep very well at night, and I was always hungry. It fucking sucked.
I finished up in the toilet, then washed my hands and dried them at the sinks. I exited the bathroom and walked back into the pub, but when I opened the door I walked into a tall man and stumbled backwards. The man grabbed my arms and stopped my impending fall.
“Whoa, there!” the man said, his tone panicked.
I blew out a big breath. “Omigod! Thank you.”
“No problem, honey. Jesus, you’re pregnant, are you okay?” he asked with an alarmed look.
I looked up and noticed he was the man I met in the hospital a few days ago. He didn’t seem to recognise me, and I was little embarrassed to remind him that we already met just in case I was mistaken. I was sure I knew him though, I remembered his facial scar.
I didn't have the chance to take him in when we last met, but this time I did. I noticed was an older man with a thick head of black hair, except on his left side were his facial scar ran into his hairline. He looked near the same age as my father, which would put him in his fifties. I smiled when he let go of me and pushed his glasses further up his nose.
I bobbed my head. “I’m really fine...”
“Philip.”
I smiled. “Philip. I’m Aideen.”
Philip winked. “You take very good care of yourself, Aideen. Watch where you put your feet.”
I chuckled. “Nice advice, I’ll remember it.”
Philip tipped his head forward, glanced over his shoulder then turned and walked towards the bar. I blew out a breath and shook my head at myself.
Watch where you put your feet.
That was really good advice for me; it was advice I’d have to put into immediate use because I couldn’t afford to be as clumsy as I usually was whilst being pregnant. It was too dangerous.
I glanced around the pub and decided I need to go home. I knew everyone was out celebrating my pregnancy and new apartment, but a pub was no place for a pregnant woman. It was a hazard, a pending accident waiting to happen.
It was also hot as hell with all the bodies packed in there and the heat made it difficult to catch my breath.
I needed to leave.
Without a single thought, I turned and walked towards the exit of the pub. When I walked through the doors and made it outside, the cold air wrapped around me like a blanket. I deeply inhaled.
That felt better.
“Well, well, well. If it isn’t me forever disappearin’ ex-girlfriend.”
I cringed when I heard his voice, but plastered on a smile as I slowly turned myself around. “Heeeeey, you. What’s up, homie?” I asked Skull as he stood before me with his large arms fold across his chest, and a grin stretched across his mouth.