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At one point in my life, I'd dreamed of settling down. Maybe having kids. I didn't think either were possible with my current position. If I didn't get offered the promotion, did I want to stay at the gym and keep living month-to-month.
But I'd not imagined this. After four hours of the noise and being hit at least a dozen times by random ladies' purses while they adjusted the weight of their purchases as they shuffled by, I would have gladly traded this job for a fish market. At least the fish didn't bicker about getting a lower discount than advertised, or that so-and-so was already out of whatever it was in the flyer and it was only nine o'clock.
The complaining voices were almost as bad as the feeling of claustrophobia that started to set in the longer I stood in one place.
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I wouldn't believe me, either. " I tried to swallow around the growing lump in my throat. Everything I had planned to say to Jolie-to Dirk if he was present-just slipped away.
Chris's hand cupped my hip before his body pressed against my back. Giving me stability.
But it didn't seem to matter. One girl said she could tell I was hiding something by the way I shied away from letting her touch me below the belt when we made out. After it had happened a second time with another girl, I realized I must have been subconsciously projecting my fears that I would be rejected. And the irony of it, it was happening anyway. Girls didn't stick around with guys who made it blatantly clear they had secrets.
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I'd started sniffling and coughing almost two weeks ago after my thirtieth birthday celebration (which had consisted of just the two of us, a bottle of chocolate sauce, a container of whipped topping, my little toy box, and the kitchen island). But there was more to my current demeanor. More that Chris didn't know about. My trip to the doctor three days ago had been two-fold: I'd wanted to check out the consistent rasp in my breathing; and I was scheduled to have my first ultrasound.
Except that the technician couldn't find a heartbeat.
He was always so peaceful, unlike when I twisted about and talked while dreaming. Especially, when my dreams were about sex. We continued watching each other, our breathing settling to an even pace. That we were skin to skin was momentarily forgotten. Eventually, I whispered, "Why me?" "Hmm?" His fingertip traced the ridge of each of my cheekbones.