Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 86335 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86335 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Which is one reason why I’m kind of glad—okay, maybe glad isn’t the right word, more like okay—that Nate doesn’t know. If he found out and told me he didn’t want this baby, it would break my heart. So, maybe, in a way, it’s for the best that he’s not in the picture. I can pretend he would’ve wanted me and the baby and never know any different.
Ignorance is bliss, right?
chapter fourteen
PAIGE
One Month Later
Cathy
Where are you?
Cathy
Please tell me you’re on your way.
Cathy
If you’re not here soon, we’re going to have to start without you.
I should’ve known better than to schedule a doctor’s appointment before a meeting, but in my defense, the last appointment went smoothly. Unfortunately, the same can’t be said for this one.
Despite my scheduling it for first thing in the morning, there was an emergency, and I was told it wouldn’t be too long, so I chose to wait. And as the minutes ticked by, I considered rescheduling and going to work, but by the time I went up to the desk to do so, I was told Dr. Mays was ready for me.
But once I was brought back, they had to do blood work and get a urine sample, and then the nurse needed to discuss my lab results, which came back slightly anemic, so they’d like to add an iron supplement to my prenatal pill.
While I waited for the doctor to come in, I tried to call or text my assistant, Cathy, but I had zero service. So, I had no choice but to take a calming breath and enjoy listening to my baby’s heartbeat. The doctor said the baby’s heartbeat was strong and I looked great. I scheduled my next checkup for twenty weeks, which will also be an ultrasound, and then hauled ass out the door.
The moment I had service, my phone blew up with texts. I called Cathy back, but she didn’t answer. So, I focused on getting to the office as quickly and safely as possible.
I fly through security, flashing my badge, and take the elevator up. I don’t know if it’s the stress or the cologne the guy standing next to me is wearing, but the second the doors open, I detour to the restroom to throw up.
Jesus! I read morning sickness usually only lasts for the first trimester. Guess I’m one of the unlucky ones because I’m still getting sick damn near every day.
Once I’ve washed out my mouth and brushed my teeth, I head back to the conference room. It’s not until I walk inside that I realize I have no clue what meeting this is for. Let me tell you, pregnancy brain is a real thing.
“Good morning,” I breathe, stepping into the room and praying my brain will remember what we’re doing here. “I’m sorry I’m late.”
“Don’t worry,” Cathy says. “Mr. Bradford is running late as well. Traffic. He’s coming straight from the airport.”
I sigh in relief. “Good, because I swear this pregnancy has fried my brain. What is the meeting for?”
Cathy, who has two kids of her own, chuckles. “You think pregnancy brain is bad? Wait until the baby comes. Baby brain is even worse.”
I groan, unable to even imagine how this could get any worse. “At least I won’t be throwing up every damn day.”
“No, you’ll just have a sweet little baby throwing up on you,” Cathy says with a laugh.
Tom and Jill, two of my marketing leads, laugh and nod in agreement. It’s nice to work for a company where people are understanding. The previous company I worked for would’ve found a way for me to be fired the second they found out I was pregnant.
“Thanks, guys. I can’t wait,” I say dryly. “Now, refresh my brain.”
The team is getting me caught up to speed when Janet, the receptionist for our department, opens the door. “Good morning. Mr. Bradford is here.”
“Send him in, thanks,” I tell her.
“I’m shocked the COO is coming to discuss this himself,” Cathy says.
“Yeah, normally, the CMO would handle it,” Tom chimes in. “And you know he’s capable since they’re brothers. But he insisted that—”
His words are cut off as the door opens, and Mr. Bradford strolls through, along with another gentleman. Words are spoken, but I can’t focus on anything other than the man standing in front of me.
Brown hair, styled neatly, that I ran my fingers through. Stubble along his jaw that I felt against the inside of my thighs. Whiskey-colored eyes that I looked into as I came over and over again.
My heart squeezes in my chest, and my stomach tightens. I open my mouth to speak, but a bout of nausea has me racing out of the room and into the nearest restroom to throw up.
Holy shit, he’s here.
Nathan Bradford, the COO of Bradford Hotels, is Nate. My Nate!