Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 87950 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87950 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
“Matty, please. I’m not judging you, I promise.” She took my hand again and my anger began to waver. “We’ve lost so many people in our family over the years. I don’t want to lose you too.”
“That won’t happen,” I assured her. “Maybe I shouldn’t have expected you to accept it without question. This whole telling people thing is new to me.”
Closing her eyes briefly, Ashley took a deep breath. She was trying and that’s all I could ask of her. She didn’t need to like my relationship with Alex, just accept it. Accept me.
“So…it’s going well between you?” she asked with a smile faker than Pamela Anderson’s tits.
“We’ve had some hurdles, but yeah. It’s perfect. He’s perfect.”
“Hurdles? Already?” She sounded a little too relieved for my liking.
“Alex is HIV positive. He-” Before I could finish, Ashley ripped her hand away again. She had the same look on her face that she had when I snuck a spider into her lunchbox in third grade. “You can’t catch it through holding my hand.” I couldn’t prevent the sardonic tone to my voice.
“So you…” she choked out.
“No. But if I did you wouldn’t need to look so damn terrified.” I took a moment to compose myself, deciding I was being unfair. I knew from experience that it was a scary word to hear and I shouldn’t blame her for not knowing the facts. “I’m sorry,” I relented. “I didn’t mean to snap.”
“I should go,” she said, looking at her watch. “Adam will be wondering where I am.”
She stood from her chair and so did I. “Ashley,” I said, putting my hand on her shoulder. I tried to ignore the slight flinch of her body. “We’re gonna be okay, right?”
Sighing, she looked at my hand on her shoulder and then at my face. “Sure,” she said, only mildly convincing. “You’re my cousin and I love you. I just need a little time to get my head around it.”
“So, I’ll still get to see this little dude?” I asked, feeling a flutter of nerves as I rubbed her belly.
“This little dude could well be a dudette.” She bypassed my question and I hoped it wasn’t intentional.
“Be sure to call me as soon as you find out.”
“I’m starting to think he or she will never make an appearance,” she complained, arching her back and wincing in discomfort.
“You should play some Souls’ albums to him.”
“Or her.”
“This chick at one of our gigs in Vegas a few years ago went into labor after the first track. Gave birth back stage. She named it Sawyer.” That pissed me off. It was clearly the beat of my drums that set her off. Fucking Sawyer got the credit for everything.
“I don’t think that quite matches Adam’s taste in music.” Ashley laughed so I forced a lopsided smile, failing to see the amusement.
So what, you only listen to what Adam tells you to now?
She appeared genuinely oblivious to how unhealthy that sentence was. How the hell could she allow someone to have that kind of control over her? Maybe I was reading too much into an innocent comment, but having met Adam, I doubted it.
Ashley gave me a hug which, on my part at least, felt forced and awkward, like she couldn’t bear to hold me too close in case I accidentally infected her with gayitis.
“I’ll call you when…oh…” She broke off. “Whoa.”
“What is it?” I urged, panic trickling down my spine. “Is it the baby?”
“I’ve been getting these weird twinges all day,” she explained, massaging her stomach and blowing out a poof of air.
“Do you need me to call the hospital? Adam? An ambulance?”
“Calm down, Matty,” she said, seemingly amused that I was freaking the fuck out. “It’s settled now. Fingers crossed it’s a sign that I won’t be pregnant for much longer.” She anchored the strap of her purse over her shoulder. “Call you soon.”
“You better,” I said, saluting her as she walked away. There wasn’t a great deal of truth to my words. Feeling deflated and maybe a little hurt as I hid behind my sunglasses, I was in no rush to repeat the last hour of my life.
I’d entered the restaurant earlier feeling like the tallest, luckiest man on earth and I walked out two hours later with my shoulders slumped and my head down.
Heading to my car, I didn’t notice the small group of girls, no older than fifteen, following me until one patted my shoulder. “Hi,” she sang, her voice timid. “I’m Leanne and these are my friends. Can we have a picture with you?” she asked, holding her breath, her expression eager as she awaited my answer.
“Not today, kid,” I said, continuing to walk on. The patter of footsteps ceased and I turned back, feeling guilty for dismissing a fan.
The girl introduced as Leanne and one of her friends stood few steps away. “Told you it was true!” the other girl said. “He doesn’t want a photo with you because he’s a fuckin’ faggot!”