Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 22244 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 111(@200wpm)___ 89(@250wpm)___ 74(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 22244 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 111(@200wpm)___ 89(@250wpm)___ 74(@300wpm)
I need to know everything I can. I feel like I’m already behind, having lost months if I’m guessing right. Not only for those months but for the years, too, I could have had if I’d been closer to my brother, as I should be. That’s something I hope I can fix with time. Though he might want nothing to do with me after he finds out I won’t be giving him Winter back.
“Why art history?” I ask her. She jerks her head back up to look at me. Clearly, I surprised her with the question.
“I was going to go into nursing. It was a safe choice for a career, but Cory told me to follow my passion.” I tense for a moment but remind myself for the hundredth time that I should be happy someone was there for her. I might want to punch my brother in the face for touching her, but I know he would have been good to her. He isn’t an asshole. If anyone of the two of us is, it’s me. He’s always been the smoother, nicer one. I’m more of a bull in a china shop.
I drop the noodles in the pot and turn to face her. “Do you draw?”
Her face lights up at my question. “I always have. For as long as I can remember I was always drawing. It didn't matter where I was. If there was something to write with and a surface I could use, I would.”
“Then I’m glad he got you to do it.”
“I learned a lot.” She lets out a small laugh. “I also learned there are so many places I want to see but I probably never will. At least I got to learn about them.” She gives a small shrug.
“I could take you anywhere. Name the place and we’ll go,” I offer. We would be off tomorrow. All she’d have to do is ask.
“Crowds make me uneasy,” she admits. “Besides, I’m pretty sure Cory has said the same thing before but he can never pull himself away from work. I’ve heard you're even worse.” She tries to make it sound like a tease but I hear a sadness to her tone. She can try and hide it, but I’ve always been good at reading people.
“Sometimes you just need something to remind you there are other things out there worth slowing down for.”
She peeks up at me through her eyelashes. “Like a child,” she says quietly.
“I’d never be like my own father. That is what he was. A father. Not a dad. I’ll be a dad to our child.”
Her hand goes to her belly. My fingers itch to do the same. Hell, my fingers want to be touching her anywhere.
“I’d want you to be in his or her life. I wouldn't keep you from our child,” she adds. No, I didn't think she would. She knew what it was like to grow up without parents. But I don’t like the way she worded it. As if she’s not a part of what I want. With or without a child, I want her. The baby is an added bonus and it makes those caveman tendencies I’ve been having since I spotted her rise up in me. I want to beat my chest that I'd gotten her pregnant. I’m going crazy and still I don't care because for the first time in a long time I’m enjoying something. I’m taking something for myself.
The timer dings, letting me know I need to drain the noodles. I turn and take the pot from the stove to finish making her something to eat. Her eyes drift from me out to the falling snow. I hope we get buried in so we’re stuck out here for longer than planned. I want to make her see she belongs with me rather than my brother. I don’t think it will be too hard to convince her though. She keeps on letting me touch her, letting her know she’s mine. Maybe she and my brother aren't in love. Or maybe she knows the child is really mine and is picking me over him for that reason alone.
Or maybe she and my brother think they are in love, but I know they can’t be. If she loved him no way she’d let me touch her like I did that night. If what I’m feeling is love, which I’m pretty fucking sure it is, the idea of another women touching me pisses me the fuck off. So I don’t see how it could be possible to love someone and let someone else do the things I’ve done to her. Oh, and I plan to do more. I will be taking her back to my bed tonight.
I bring the bowl over to her and set it in front of her with a fork. I go back to the fridge and return with a glass of lemonade. I’d read it was a good choice for pregnant women.