Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 28852 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 144(@200wpm)___ 115(@250wpm)___ 96(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 28852 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 144(@200wpm)___ 115(@250wpm)___ 96(@300wpm)
Dr. Izzard cracks a smile then.
“Good, because I’m afraid that our time together today is over. Don’t be so hard on yourself, Sam. Nothing is impossible, and I have faith that you’ll make the right choices.”
I shoot him a wry grin.
“I certainly hope so. But with that said, I appreciate your time, Doc.”
Then my appointment ends and I stride out onto the streets of New York, the sunlight dazzlingly bright. Yet, I don’t notice other passerby, or the cars honking on the street. Instead, I’m merely ruminating on my therapist’s words. Could he be right? Am I really over-stressing about things that don’t make a difference? I don’t know, but I have to find out.
11
Harlow
“Where did I leave that scarf?” I murmur while sifting through a massive pile of clothes on the bed. Where did this pile even come from? I muse while staring about my old room.
After all, now I basically live in Sam’s suite upstairs, so my room seems oddly quaint and childish. The pale peach walls are feminine and girly, and the white bedspread looks like something fit for a high school girl. Come to think of it, I was a high school girl until recently, although now, I’m very much a woman with a woman’s life.
But autumn’s nearly here, so I need to swap out some of my summer stuff to replace with a warmer wardrobe. I sigh while looking about the room. This place has a lot of memories and it’s cute, really. It’s filled with old knickknacks, worn stuffed animals, and of course, my clothes and copious amounts of makeup.
“No need for Sam to see exactly how much stuff I have,” I mutter while digging around the clothes pile. “He’d be shocked, seeing that he has two sweaters total.”
Not that my man would judge my habits, or even really have anything to say about them at all. No, one thing I’ve come to love about Sam is just how much he seems to like me for exactly who I am, even with my sassy personality, horsey laugh, and annoying habits.
“Wait, love?” I whisper to the empty room. “Do I love Sam?”
It makes me come up full stop, my hands paused in their sorting. It’s such a simple but powerful word, and I look deep into myself.
Yes, you love that man, the voice in my head whispers.
OMG, this is both exhilarating and scary and my heart pounds in my chest. I guess I haven’t let myself really embrace that notion quite yet, but now that I’ve admitted it to myself, I realize that maybe I’ve been in love with Sam for some time now. Is that even possible? I suppose so because it kind of just snuck up on me without me realizing it. After all, we’ve fallen into such a wonderful routine. Sam goes into work in the mornings, while I spend my time working on my music. I’ve been taking virtual guitar lessons, which has definitely helped me expand my songwriting, and I’m even taking up the cymbals too, just to add some variety to my repertoire.
But then in the evenings, my man comes home and despite my early fails as a domestic goddess, a little perseverance eventually paid off. I’ve started making meals for us to enjoy together each evening, dessert and all, and Sam loves it. Well, maybe he doesn’t love it that much, but he certainly eats a lot to encourage my culinary adventures. In fact, that rosemary chicken last night was delicious, come to think of it. At the memory, my stomach gurgles slightly, making a weird bubbly noise.
Ugh, chicken. Then, my belly drops, almost like I’m on a roller coaster even though I’m just standing in my room. The gurgle comes again, and nausea makes me go still.
A few seconds later, the sensation passes.
I wonder if I’ve got a bug of some kind, is my miserable thought. I don’t tend to get sick very often, but when I do, I’m a complete wimp about it. I blame Griselda because she always babied me and made the best Spanish chickpea stew whenever I was sick. I wish I could have some of that now, in fact.
But then my stomach gurgles again, and I frown. The truth is, I’ve been feeling a little off over the last couple of weeks, as if I’ve been on the cusp of the flu or a stomach bug, but it never quite reaches the point of being a full on cold.
“Maybe I’m pregnant,” I think aloud and then immediately roll my eyes because there’s no way I could be pregnant. Sam gave me the Depo shot a couple weeks back, and I’ve actually been really happy with the lack of side effects. It’s been an easy-breezy cakewalk, and we’ve been having straight sex, in addition to our usual backdoor love.