Total pages in book: 210
Estimated words: 203847 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1019(@200wpm)___ 815(@250wpm)___ 679(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 203847 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1019(@200wpm)___ 815(@250wpm)___ 679(@300wpm)
I kick the door shut and make it to the toilet just in time. I lean over it and retch. My eyes sting with tears as my stomach empties itself of the water and ginger cookies I’ve been nibbling all day.
Morning sickness my motherfucking ass.
“Liv? Baby girl, are you okay?” The door opens and closes within seconds, and Tyler’s hand rests on my back.
I shake my head. “I’m sorry,” I whisper.
He kneels next to me and rubs my back. “Don’t be sorry. I’m afraid the cat is well and truly out of the bag though.”
I lean my head against his shoulder. “And here I was, worried it would be awkward.”
I cough as the urge to vomit hits again. Tyler rubs my back and makes soothing noises in my ear.
“I’m good,” I say to myself more than him. “Can I have my toothbrush?”
He gets up and rinses it under the tap. I lean against the bath and take the brush from him. I scrub my teeth and tongue to get rid of the awful vomit taste and push myself up. Or try to. My legs are shaky, so Tyler steps forward and helps me up.
“Thank you,” I mumble through a mouthful of toothpaste. I spit it out and sigh, setting the toothbrush back in the holder.
“Okay?” Ty asks, pulling me into him.
I take a deep breath and nod against his chest. “Okay. Let’s go.”
He holds me back. “I can tell them you’re not up to it. They’ll understand.”
“What?” I look up. “You’re going to invite them here, drop the bombshell on them, and then ask them to leave?”
“Bombshell?” He raises his eyebrows.
“Well, it is, isn’t it?” My voice dips at the end with insecurity, and I swallow.
His fingers dig into my back as his body tenses. It’s easy for him to say it isn’t—he’s not the one who’s looking at spending the next ten weeks hugging a toilet.
“Sure you’re okay to spend the evening with Mum and Dad?”
Nice subject change. “I said I’m fine.”
He shrugs and lets me go. Just before he opens the door, he grabs my face and kisses my forehead softly. I lay my hands at his waist and close my eyes at the lingering touch.
“Sorry,” he whispers. “I’m trying to remember how different this is for you compared to me and I’m not doing a very good job.”
“Join me in the bathroom again. It’ll soon sink in.” I smile up at him. “Come on. Go and introduce me to the people I have to thank for you.”
He kisses me again and opens the door. His arm stays firmly around my waist as he leads me toward the front room and to the couple sitting on his sofa.
He looks like his dad. From the dark hair to the strong jaw, Tyler is his dad thirty years ago. And his mom—her light hair isn’t what I expected, but she’s just as gorgeous as Tessa. For real, this family has some serious genetic luck.
She stands and Tyler steps to the side so she can hug me. “Liv, it’s so lovely to meet you. Both of you!” She laughs, stepping back and glancing at my stomach.
I smile, even if it is kind of weak. “It’s great to meet you, too. I’m sorry about disappearing just then.”
Tyler’s dad stands and embraces me the same way his wife just did. “Don’t apologize to the woman who had twins. I considered moving the bathroom into the bedroom several times during that pregnancy.”
Now that I can believe. Already.
“Anyway, congratulations!” He kisses my cheek. “What a wonderful surprise.” He claps Tyler on the shoulder and pulls him in for a hug.
“How are you feeling, love? We can reschedule if you’d like,” his mom asks, resting a hand on my arm.
“No, no! You don’t have to do that. I feel fine—mostly.”
“It started this morning,” Tyler explains, sliding a hand down my back soothingly. “We’re going to the doctor tomorrow.”
I frown at him. “We are?”
“We are now.”
I blink a few times and look away so I can roll my eyes.
His mom catches it and throws a wink at me. “Don’t worry, Liv. All men go a little caveman-esque when their better half is pregnant.”
“It’s not caveman,” Tyler interjects. “It’s caring.”
“Precisely,” his dad agrees. “But get the bucket down the side of the bed, lad. It’s easier at two a.m.”
My eyes widen and he chuckles.
“Dad!”
“Todd! Give the girl a chance to adjust before you go throwing horror stories at her!” Tyler’s mom swipes his chest with the back of her hand.
“It’s okay,” I interrupt. “You don’t have to sugarcoat shit. I already know it’s a load of crap.”
“In that case,” his mom says, “it fucking hurts.”
Yup. Figured that much out for myself from watching Teen Mom.
“Okay. Let’s go and sit at the table.” Tyler all but pushes me toward the kitchen.