Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 116597 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 583(@200wpm)___ 466(@250wpm)___ 389(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116597 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 583(@200wpm)___ 466(@250wpm)___ 389(@300wpm)
What remained of the laughter immediately halted, a cold silence dropping over us like a cloudy night.
Mia’s eyes grew wide. Grace paused with her beer bottle halfway to her lips and Chloe swallowed, her face turning beet red.
Maven turned to me slowly, brows drawing together. “Sorry, Liv, we were just—”
“Assuming there’s no way in hell I could ever manage a pregnancy, let alone the task of being a mother?”
Her expression was horrified then. “That’s not—”
“I’ll have you all know the I’m actually in the process of freezing my eggs right now.”
The words were out of my mouth before I could think better of saying them, my defensive instinct too strong to fight. The news landed like a bomb, and I tilted my chin higher like they all should have seen it coming when I knew they had every right to make the assumptions they had.
Technically, I hadn’t officially started the process — but I had the plan in place. I had this agreement with Carter, cash to stash away, and finally, the security I’d needed to feel confident to take the next steps.
I hadn’t made the appointment with my doctor yet, but I would.
And now, the cat was out of the bag.
I turned my attention back to where my hands were crafting the bracelet as the aftershocks of that truth settled over the room like dust after an explosion. I didn’t want to look at any of them when I knew they were all looking at each other with expressions of what the fuck just happened?
“Liv…” Grace finally broke the silence, her tone apologetic. “We didn’t know.”
“No one did. And I’d appreciate it if it stayed in this circle until I’m ready to tell anyone else.”
“Of course,” Chloe said automatically. She ditched the swimsuit in her hand and rushed over to me, forcing me to drop the bracelet as she took my hands in hers. I had to resist the instinct to rip away from her touch.
I hated being vulnerable.
And I really despised being touched in the rare instance that I let myself be.
“I… I think that’s amazing, Livia. I really do,” she said, smiling.
“Me, too,” Mia chimed in. “I think you’d make a great mom.”
“We all do,” Maven said from beside me, but I saw the hurt in her eyes, the betrayal of not knowing something she felt like she had a right to know as my best friend. Fortunately, she was such a good friend that she didn’t make it about her. “Does this mean you want to start… dating?”
I snorted. “Oh, hell no. We all know men are incompetent of anything past providing an orgasm, and most of them struggle even with that.” I paused. “Your lovely men excluded, of course.”
Grace chuckled. “So… on your own then?”
I held my chin higher with a sharp nod. “On my own. When I’m ready.” I pointed a finger at Mia. “And you can bet your sparkly little ass that she’ll wear designer clothes just like you said.”
“Little Nike shoes!” Mia squeaked.
The tension in the room melted with the next wave of laughter, and then we were back to helping Chloe sort through clothes, the attention off me at least for the moment.
Although I didn’t miss the way Maven held me tighter, how she laid her head on my shoulder and rubbed my arm when I picked up the bracelet to work again. She was comforting me now, letting me know she was there for me — but I knew she’d want more details soon.
When my stomach settled, I took a sip of my wine, happy to return to our task of getting Chloe packed and ready to go.
But that happiness didn’t get the chance to dip more than its toes before a text message on my phone was tearing it away again.
“Shit,” I muttered when I looked at it, ice sliding down the back of my neck.
Maven bolted upright, brows pinched together. “What? Who is it?”
I swallowed, holding up the screen to the only person in the world who would understand my reaction when I answered her question.
“My sister.”
Giddy Up
Carter
Zamboni stared at me like I’d lost my goddamn mind.
Which, to be fair, maybe I had.
“Does this shirt make me look like I’m trying too hard?”
The golden retriever pup I’d adopted in November just tilted his head, tongue lolling out like the himbo he was, tail thumping against the kitchen cabinets with a rhythmic thud-thud-thud. I’d changed shirts three times already, finally landing on a plain black tee that hugged my arms just enough to show the toned muscles from wielding a stick on the ice without screaming look at me, I lift weights. I’d paired it with some light gray joggers, and since it was my house Livia was coming to, I didn’t put on shoes, just acted like it was a normal Sunday evening at home.