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And there you go… Why can’t I date nice normal women? Women that want me for me and not my money. Women who don’t spew venom at me at the bar and then text an hour later for a booty call.
I have a strong urge to text Sasha. I know it’s the bourbon talking because I decided earlier I’m not going to text her tonight. But I can’t help myself.
Hey. How was your week?
I stare at the phone willing it to show those three dots.
Nothing.
But, then I see them. It takes several long minutes for the message to finally come through.
Not too bad. I was just thinking about you actually. Do you have time to grab coffee sometime?
Yes! Progress! She wants to see me.
Absolutely. When’s good for you?
Tomorrow morning? Or Sunday?
Tomorrow it is. 9 am at Brewed on 6th?
Great. See you then.
I feel a rush going through me. She wants to see me. Maybe we can start over from the beginning. I can take her out to an amazing dinner and we can continue to get to know each other. There are so many things I want to know.
Crawling into bed, I try to calm my mind. But the thoughts just keep coming.
I attempt to remember the breathwork trick they taught us at the retreat. It supposedly helps the body to be calm. You take a breath and hold it for a certain number of seconds and then breathe back out for a different number of seconds.
Damn, I can’t remember. Google to the rescue…
4-7-8. Right. Breathe in for 4. Hold for 7. Breathe out for 8.
I try it for a minute, but it doesn’t stop my brain from the dopamine rush I’m getting thinking about seeing Sasha again.
I wished she’d mentioned a drink instead of coffee. A drink can easily stretch into dinner and beyond. Coffee usually ends at just that.
Chapter 17
Sasha
I’m so fucking nervous I can barely put my makeup on. My hand keeps shaking and now I have flecks of mascara all around my eyes.Get yourself together, Sasha.
I’ve been struggling hard for the last week with the question of whether to tell Spencer about the baby. And then when I decided to tell him the question became when.
I was considering texting him last night when his text came through, making me jump out of my skin.
At first, I didn’t know how to reply. Should I really tell him how my week has been? How I found out I’m pregnant and the baby is yours?
Of course, I knew that wasn’t the way to tell him. This obviously needs to happen face-to-face.
I was relieved to find out he wanted to meet this morning. I need to get this conversation over with. I barely slept last night and if I had to spend another night sleepless, worrying about this conversation, I don’t know what I’d do.
I talked to two of my most trusted friends this week to get some advice. Lauren was the first person I talked to and when I first told her, she just sat there speechless with her mouth open.
“Wait a minute… Spencer? Spencer Sullivan? You’re pregnant with Spencer Sullivan’s baby?” she asked, confusion all over her face.
We were in my office with the door closed. We were also whispering as quietly as we could to make sure no one could hear.
