He doesn’t correct himself.
The days blur into something warm and steady.
Katia is settling into rehab. She calls every few days, her voice clearer each time. Still bright. Still trying to make jokes. But stronger now. Grounded.
Jake always asks how she’s doing.
He always listens to the answer.
We cook together most nights.
Sometimes we end up ordering takeout and eating on the floor with Bear wedged between us. Sometimes we fall into bed laughing. Sometimes we don’t laugh at all and are just quietly content in each other’s presence.
Today Jake is already at the training facility, and I’ve had a bit of a lazy morning, lying in bed because I didn’t feel so great.
My energy is low, and I don’t feel like my usual energetic self.
So I’ve been reading my latest romance novel, scrolling on my phone, and checking in with Katia.
I’m so grateful she’s doing better and that the rehab facility is taking good care of her.
I roll onto my side, and a dull ache spreads through my chest.
Ugh.
I’m still waiting for my period to come.
My breasts have been tender for a few days now, but still no period.
I get up and shuffle to the bathroom to check again. Still nothing.
I flush and catch my reflection in the mirror while washing my hands.
How many days late am I again?
I’d better check my app.
When I open it, I gasp.
No. That can’t be right.
Has it really been ten days already?
My heart starts beating faster, but I try to calm myself.
I’m on the pill.
I take it every morning with my coffee. Same time. Same routine. I’m not careless. I’m not reckless.
“You’re fine,” I mutter to myself.
My cycle isn’t always perfectly regular.
Stress can throw it off.
The annulment. Moving in with Jake. Katia. Divorce. Everything.
That’s reasonable, right?
