Eleven Weeks by Lauren K. McKellar

Author:Lauren K. McKellar [McKellar, Lauren K.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: romance
Published: 2015-01-25T05:00:00+00:00

I blink. All the ads are blurring into one in my head, and I end up drawing up a blanket resume that will fit every kind of phone sales role I can think of. Well, every one bar the sexy kind, that is.

Tears mist my eyes once more, and again my mind is drawn back to Sean and Sally opening the present for the baby. Why didn’t I think of that? For weeks I’ve been promising my small human that I’ll get things right as a mother, but already I feel inadequate, once more pipped at the post by my freaking family.

I scrub at my eyes, and bite my lip. This is something I can make right.

I visit the online store for Myer, one of the biggest department stores in our area who thankfully, do online shopping. I want this small human inside me to have the best start to life possible.

I buy a tiny little jumpsuit, very similar to the one Sean bought Sally, as well as what looks to be the softest little toy rabbit and some to-die-for booty things that seriously look so tiny, I doubt they’d warm my fingers. My eyes mist over again, but this time, I smile. I can’t wait for my package to come in the mail. It’s money I don’t really have to spend, but it’s it. I’m going to be the best mother ever. I haven’t neglected my small human on its first ever Christmas.

“Stace?” Mum opens the door, peeping her head into the room. I quickly click the Internet browser closed. “Did you want to invite Kate and her family over for Christmas lunch?

“I don’t think so.” I purse my lips. “Kate told me she doesn’t want to do Christmas this year. I think they just want to focus on their … stuff for a while.”

“Huntington’s sounds like a truly horrible disease.” Mum leans her body up against the doorframe. “I can understand them wanting to just shut everything else out for a while.”

“Yeah.” I nod.

“All right, well lunch is ready in twenty minutes, so I’ll need you to come downstairs. And take a shower before you do.” She scrunches up her nose. “Do I smell chicken in here?”

“No!” I widen my eyes and position my legs so they’re blocking the trashcan under my desk. No chicken bone in there.

“Okay,” Mum turns to leave. “Oh! I almost forgot.” She digs into her pocket and pulls out a tiny package wrapped in tissue paper. “This was on the front stoop when I went out to bring in the bins this morning.”

She hands it to me. This tiny purple package has my name scrawled on top in black marker. It feels flimsy in my hands, delicate. “Thanks.”

Mum closes the door and I unwrap the package with shaking hands. What the hell is this?

Inside, there is a gold pendant. It’s thin and delicate, just a simple sliver. It’s the numeral one. I furrow my brow. What the hell kind of present is this?

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