Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 74379 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74379 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Turning around, I got angry, instead of embarrassed like I normally would have.
Why?
Because it was the asshole. The same asshole that’d held me in his arms while I cried three days prior, gotten a page, and walked out like I wasn’t pregnant with his goddamn twins.
“No,” I snapped. “What do you want?”
His eyes narrowed.
I resisted the urge to blush.
I was allowed to stick things in my ass if I wanted to, dammit!
He was studying my face for signs of my lying, and I was studiously trying not to squirm under his attention.
It helped that I was getting madder at him by the second.
“I wanted to stop in when I saw your car,” he gestured over his shoulder. “Why are you washing clothes here?”
He looked around like it was the most disgusting place in the world.
I sneered at him.
“Because I don’t have a washer and dryer?” I stated the obvious.
Reed’s eye twitched. “Why not?”
I tilted my head in confusion. “Because I don’t have the money to buy them…”
“Why not?”
I knew what he was asking.
Why wouldn’t I spend the money that my parents had left?
And the answer to that? It was scary.
I didn’t want to spend their money. I didn’t want anything to do with them.
I wanted to move, but I couldn’t move until the house I’d bought was in better repair.
That meant redoing the electrical, which I’d gotten a quote for, and had nearly squawked in protest. Who the hell could afford fifteen grand after they’d just bought a house with property?
I paused, wondering why he cared. “Because I bought a house, and used almost every bit of my savings on it. I was told by my realtor that the house was old, and that I should expect repairs would be needed. When I had an inspector come out, he told me that the house needed a lot of work. The electrical needed to be completely redone. The floor is about to go out in a few places, and there isn’t central heating and air. That’ll come later, though.”
His eyes twitched. “Then why did you buy a house that you knew needed work?”
I didn’t answer.
He knew why, just as well as I did.
“Why not use your parents’ washer and dryer?”
I looked at him.
“You think my parents actually did their own laundry?”
I almost laughed at that.
Reed did laugh.
“Touché.”
I rolled my eyes and turned around, going back to what I was doing in the dryer. This time, I made sure to bend down to the floor instead of lean over, so he’d have to be lying on the floor to really see anything.
Something that I knew he wouldn’t do, seeing as he was already looking around this place like it had cooties or something.
He was also looking at me like I’d lost my mind.
I hadn’t.
I just liked it at this one.
It was far away from my parents’ place, close to the new place that I’d just purchased, and honestly? It was always quiet. Always.
When people came into this laundromat, they never spoke to me and didn’t expect me to speak to them.
And their quarter machine made me happy.
Why did it make me happy?
Because the owner wrote funny quotes on a Post-It note and taped it to the quarter machine every week.
That was it.
Once I got all of my clothes into the basket, I stood up and walked them to the table.
“Why are you doing your laundry at eleven o’clock at night?” he continued.
I looked over at him in a sideways glance as I started to fold my laundry.
“Why are you out at eleven o’clock at night?” I countered.
“I just delivered a baby,” he answered.
My shoulders fell.
Shit.
I’d managed to forget I was carrying his babies.
“Do you wear those still?” He eyed the short shorts.
I showed him the waistband, and then stretched it for emphasis. “They’re pretty damn stretchy, so yes. I don’t own much stuff that stretches enough to allow for this.”
I shimmied my waist for emphasis, and his eyes went down.
He’d been trying to stare into my eyes, but he was failing miserably.
Though, that could be because I was wearing the tight short shorts that hadn’t fit last week, yet here I was, still in them. And again, one of his t-shirts. This was getting ridiculous.
However, I refused to go buy new clothes.
A, because I didn’t have any money to buy them. And B, because I didn’t want to admit that I was pregnant yet.
Sure, I knew logically that me ignoring the situation wasn’t exactly realistic, but I couldn’t help it.
I wasn’t ready to deal yet.
Maybe tomorrow.
So today, I was going to act like my pants didn’t fit because I was fat.
Today, I was going to act like the man standing in front of me wasn’t the babies’ father.
Or I would have, had Reed not brought it up.
“Do you not have any maternity clothes yet?”