IT Ends With Us

USBD Software complies with DMCA Digital Copyright Laws. We do not own copyrights to this book. We’re sharing this only for educational purposes and we highly encourage our visitors to purchase the original Books. If someone with copyrights wants us to remove this Book according to DMCA rules, please contact us ([email protected]) immediately.
About the book:
It’s only been two weeks since I told them, which makes me twenty weeks along now. I know I should tell my mother, but Ryle will be back in a few weeks. I feel like I should tell him first before anyone else finds out. If I can just somehow hide my baby bump from her until he gets back to the States.
I should probably just accept the fact that I’m more than likely going to have to call him and tell him long-distance. I haven’t seen my mother face to-face in two weeks. It’s the longest we’ve gone without seeing each other since she moved to Boston, so if something doesn’t happen soon she’ll show up at my front door when I’m not prepared.
I swear my stomach has doubled in size these last two weeks alone. If someone sees me who knows me well, it’ll be impossible to hide. So far, no one at the floral shop has asked about it. I think I’m still on the cusp of “Is she pregnant? Or just chubby?”
I start to unlock the door to my apartment, but it begins to open from the other side. Before I can pull the jacket over to hide my stomach from whoever is on the other side of the door, Ryle’s eyes land on me. I’m wearing one of the shirts Allysa gave me and it’s kind of impossible to hide the fact that I’m wearing a maternity shirt when he’s staring right at it.
My heart begins to smash against the walls of my chest. My neck begins to itch, so I bring my hand up and rest it there, feeling the pounding of my heart against my palm.
It’s hard to describe what I feel for him in this moment. Like any mother would want for her child, it’s a beautiful thing to see the love he already has. It’s been hard not sharing this with anyone. It’s hard not being able to share this with him, no matter how much resentment I hold toward him. My hands go to his hair while he holds me against him. Part of me wants to scream at him and call the police like I should have done that night. Part of me feels for that little boy who held his brother in his arms and watched him die. Part of me wishes I would have never met him. Part of me wishes I could forgive him.