Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 93936 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93936 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
Somehow.
Women are confusing.
I think about going upstairs but can’t bring myself to be near her right now. She’s going through something, and whatever it is, she doesn’t want to confide in me. To some extent, I get it. I don’t need to be her only confidant, but we’re engaged and hopefully soon to be married, shouldn’t she tell me what’s bothering her so I can try and fix it? I’ve tried asking her what’s wrong. I sat with her for hours, encouraging her to speak to me and tell me how she feels, wanting to understand what’s going on, but she never says anything. At first, I was patient, but there is only so much you can take, only so many times you can bite your tongue, before the patience runs thin and dissolves into nothing. Now, I’m running on tension and frustration.
Instead of going upstairs to bed, I pull a blanket from the stack we keep in the closet and spread it out on the couch while I mindlessly watch TV.
“Where are you going?” Nola asks as I come out of the walk-in closet, dressed in literally the same thing I wear every day—shorts, a T-shirt, and my black Doc Martin boots. I only have those on because I plan to take my bike out today.
“My parents.”
“Did you want to tell me?”
After sleeping on the couch the night before, I wasn’t sure we were on speaking terms this morning. It’s hard to tell where I fall in her daily life.
This morning, she never even asked me why I didn’t come to bed. Hell, she didn’t even say good morning.
“I’m pretty sure you know what today is, Nola. You are in the group chat my mother created.”
“Yes, but that doesn’t mean I know when you’re leaving.”
I throw my hands up in exasperation. “I didn’t know you were going,” I tell her. “You haven’t replied to my mom once about the party. You didn’t mention it to me. I’m sorry, but this back-and-forth with you is giving me whiplash. I don’t know if I’m supposed to say something to you so you can tell me to stop expecting the world to revolve around me or just assume you’re going so you can tell me how selfish I am.”
“I never said you’re selfish.”
I roll my eyes. “Right, but you said last night that the world revolves around me and the tour so what am I supposed to think?”
“Don’t you think it’ll be odd if I’m not there?”
I shrug. “I can tell everyone you’re studying.”
“Quinn . . .” She says my name softly and then wipes at her cheek. Great, I made her cry. “It’s my time of the month, and I’m just emotional. I think I need a different birth control because I feel like this one is making me wacky.”
“Stop taking it.” The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them. I didn’t want to say that, at least not now. Our relationship is rocky, and a baby isn’t going to fix it. We need to do the work.
“What are you saying?”
“If it’s making you sick, stop taking it.”
“Quinn, I don’t know if I’m ready to be a mother.”
“I’ll use condoms, Nola. It’s not that big of a deal. If the shit’s making you feel like crap, stop taking it.”
“Okay.”
I shrug. “See? Simple. All you had to do was tell me what was bothering you instead of all of . . . shit, I don’t even know what you call it.”
“I was being a bitch. You can say it.”
Shaking my head, I move past her and head into our bedroom. “I’m not saying that. So, are you coming with me to the gender reveal for Peyton?”
She nods. “Are we taking the bike?”
“Yeah, we are.” I don’t ask her if she’s okay with it. If not, she can drive. It’s too nice out to sit in a car. I tell her I’ll be in the garage when she’s ready.
Nola gets dressed and meets me downstairs. “Were we supposed to bring a gift?”
“No, it’s just a luncheon thing.” I hold her helmet out for her.
“You know where we need to go?”
“Not Mexico,” I say, laughing.
“I was craving tacos.”
I spread my arms out. “We live in California. Do you know how many authentic hole-in-the-wall places there are to get tacos? All you had to say was you wanted tacos, and we would’ve gone.”
“Sorry.”
I kiss her lightly and then climb onto my bike. Once I have it out of the garage, Nola puts our code into the panel to close the garage door and then climbs on the back. Within seconds, we’re cruising down the highway, with the ocean in our view, toward my parents.
We barely have a chance to speak with everyone when Noah and Peyton arrive. Noah pulls all the men into the kitchen and gives us all a white T-shirt, a balloon filled with water, and instructions.