Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 89519 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89519 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
Maverick’s leaning against the fancy oven, barefoot, shirt slung over his shoulder, a protein shake in one hand. Duffel bag on the marble floor.
I clutch the strap of my purse to my chest like it’s going to slow my heart rate, breathing in and out.
“Sorry,” he says, not sounding sorry at all. “Didn’t mean to scare you. You were gone when I got back.”
“Just needed some air,” I say too quickly. “Um. And to stretch my legs.”
His eyes go to the bag. Then to my eyes.
I smile weakly. “How was your meeting?”
Maverick narrows his eyes, but thankfully doesn’t press. He takes a long pull from his shake. “Meeting was fine. Long. Boring. Agent is pissed I’m not giving interviews right now.”
Oh? “Do you have to?”
“Not about my personal life, no.” He yanks open the fridge, pulls out a bottle of water, and cracks the seal. “But you know how it is. If I don’t talk, people fill in the blanks.”
I nod slowly, lips pressed together. People are filling in the blanks. I saw the headlines. I saw the comments. And I’m not a blank anymore.
He shuts the fridge and looks over at me again, like he’s trying to read between the lines. “You okay?”
“Totally fine,” I say.
He eyes the bag still half tucked under my arm. “What’s in the bag?”
“Oh. Just . . . deodorant. Tampons. Ibuprofen. Girl stuff.” I put the bag on the counter so he’ll stop asking about it. “Just cramps.”
Phantom cramps. Imagined cramps. The kind you start noticing the second an app tells you your period is six days late.
He stares at me another beat, like he wants to say more. But then he backs off with a shrug and walks into my personal space to kiss me on the temple. “I’m gonna shower, babe.”
I nearly collapse from relief.
I wait a heartbeat.
One.
Two . . .
When I hear the shower go on, I scurry to the guest bathroom in the hall, knowing it’s going to take him quite a bit of time to shower, and I have a decision to make: call Lucy and ask her what to do—or just take the test myself and not concern Maverick with it.
It could be a nothing burger.
False alarm.
And I would have worried him for nothing.
On the other hand, I don’t want to live with this knowledge myself . . .
My thumb hovers over my best friend’s contact. Then, before I can change my mind, I hit Call.
It rings once.
Twice.
“Babe,” she answers on the third, chipper as always. “Tell me you’re calling because you left him and are moving in with me once you get home.”
Very funny.
I roll my eyes; the background noise in her phone is so loud I can actually hear people chattering, a radio. “Where are you?” I ask.
“Wrangling Harris around town. I’m his new sidekick.” She laughs. “I swear, I’ve spent more time inside of his truck this week than I’ve spent in any car in my entire life combined.” She sighs dramatically. “We’re sitting in his truck right now about to walk into the stadium—I was dying to see the locker rooms, and he has a quick meeting with the trainer.”
Translation: Make this quick.
“Um. So,” I whisper, sinking onto the toilet lid and clutching the phone to my ear. “Things here are great but . . . I might have accidentally made a human.”
There’s a long pause as she translates that sentence.
A sharp inhale of breath.
“Annabelle!”
“I know.”
“Oh my God.”
“I know.”
“You’re—wait, did you take a test?”
“Not yet. I’m in a bathroom; he’s in the shower. I panicked and bought a three-pack. The box has a QR code on the side of it for the app.”
Lucy lets out a choked laugh. “Of course it has an app. Because capitalism won’t stop until your uterus is Bluetooth enabled.”
“This isn’t funny.”
“It’s a little funny,” she says gently. “But also—okay. Do you want me to stay on the line while you take it?”
I chew the inside of my cheek, staring at the stupid little test still sealed in its plastic wrap. “Yes and no,” I say at last. “I don’t want to do this alone, but I also don’t know if I should tell him yet. What if it’s nothing? What if I worry him for no reason?”
There’s a pause.
“Babe . . .” Lucy’s voice is barely above a whisper. “I think you should wait.”
My eyes flick to the closed bathroom door. “Wait?”
“Yeah. Wait until someone’s with you. Preferably him.”
I groan. “I knew you were going to say that.”
“Annabelle, I get the urge to know. Believe me, I do. But if this test says what you think it might say? You shouldn’t be alone. And Maverick deserves not to be blindsided.”
Good point.
I press the heel of my hand to my forehead, nodding even though she can’t see it. “But what if he freaks out?”