Read Online Indecent Proposal by Molly O'Keefe - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Molly O'Keefe
Ads: Link
wanted to.
“Ryan?”
Right . Her plans.
“I’m keeping the baby.”
“Okay.”
She pushed herself up to sitting because she quite literally wasn’t going to take Wes’s coming lecture lying down. “I haven’t really had a chance to plan past that while vomiting my guts out.”
“Are you working?”
She plucked at the edge of the thin hospital blanket; it was beige. The color of her life these days.
“Ryan?”
“No. I picked up a few shifts at a bar down the street, but once I started getting sick I was late too many times and the manager let me go.”
“So, no job? Tell me you filed for insurance—”
“I did. I’m covered.”
“Savings?”
“A few months’ rent.”
“That’s it?”
“Wes—”
“You need to go home, Ryan.”
She bristled. “No, I don’t. I don’t need to go back to Nora, pregnant, with my tail between my legs, so she can say I told you so.”
“You realize you are a thirty-two-year-old woman? This sister fight with Nora is getting ridiculous.”
“Tell her that,” she muttered. “She’s the one keeping me in exile.”
But he already had. Wes had been trying to get them to make up for years, but the hurt Ryan had caused Nora was too bad. Too big. It wasn’t a forgive-and-forget kind of thing. It was a carry-the-hatchet-to-the-grave kind of thing.
“There’s a lot of money in pregnant modeling,” she said, grasping at straws. She’d looked in the mirror, and what she saw there didn’t say Happy Pregnant Woman About Town. She looked like she had barely survived the zombie apocalypse. “My agent says I’ll probably be able to get some catalog work. Maybe some national spots.”
“Right, as soon as you get off the bathroom floor.”
“Morning sickness doesn’t last forever.”
“Then you don’t remember when Mom was pregnant with Olivia.”
The memory of her mother, shuffling around the house,gray-faced and miserable during the entire pregnancy, gave Ryan’s stomach a slimy twist, and she looked away from her brother’s damning eyes.
“Women have babies by themselves in New York City all the time. I’m hardly alone.”
But she felt it. She really did. So alone her entire life was just an echo chamber, her mistakes bouncing back at her.
Outside in the hallway, someone yelled and a metal tray was dropped. The noise was so loud she flinched.
“I can help,” he said. “But even I can’t support you and a baby in New York City. I don’t have that kind of cash.”
“I don’t want your help.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Don’t yell at me, Wes,” she cried. “You can’t demand access and answers from me when your whole damn life is a secret.”
“This isn’t about me! It’s about you and your baby.” He threw his hands up in the air. “Day care. Schools. That one-room closet you call an apartment. You need help. Point-blank. End of story. And I know you’ve been living your life on your own terms for a long time, but if you plan on having this baby you’re gonna have to get over yourself.”
Get over myself , she thought, and nearly laughed. He said it like pride was a luxury when it was all she had left. The only thing that her family, her ex-husband, her life hadn’t taken away from her.
The vague upset in her stomach that she’d gotten used to was suddenly eclipsed by head-to-toe chills, her skin breaking out in goose bumps.
The price of the baby , she thought, putting her hands over her stomach, will be my pride .
She’d known after the night with Harry that there would be more to pay.
Her brother’s glowing intensity was suddenly too much and she looked away, staring blindly toward the silent news on the television.
Behind the dark-haired anchor with apple cheeks, the words Kidnapped by Somali Pirates flashed red and yellow.
Wes grabbed the remote from the bedside table and turned up the volume.
“What is this?” she asked, happily jumping on the distraction.
“You haven’t been following
“Ryan?”
Right . Her plans.
“I’m keeping the baby.”
“Okay.”
She pushed herself up to sitting because she quite literally wasn’t going to take Wes’s coming lecture lying down. “I haven’t really had a chance to plan past that while vomiting my guts out.”
“Are you working?”
She plucked at the edge of the thin hospital blanket; it was beige. The color of her life these days.
“Ryan?”
“No. I picked up a few shifts at a bar down the street, but once I started getting sick I was late too many times and the manager let me go.”
“So, no job? Tell me you filed for insurance—”
“I did. I’m covered.”
“Savings?”
“A few months’ rent.”
“That’s it?”
“Wes—”
“You need to go home, Ryan.”
She bristled. “No, I don’t. I don’t need to go back to Nora, pregnant, with my tail between my legs, so she can say I told you so.”
“You realize you are a thirty-two-year-old woman? This sister fight with Nora is getting ridiculous.”
“Tell her that,” she muttered. “She’s the one keeping me in exile.”
But he already had. Wes had been trying to get them to make up for years, but the hurt Ryan had caused Nora was too bad. Too big. It wasn’t a forgive-and-forget kind of thing. It was a carry-the-hatchet-to-the-grave kind of thing.
“There’s a lot of money in pregnant modeling,” she said, grasping at straws. She’d looked in the mirror, and what she saw there didn’t say Happy Pregnant Woman About Town. She looked like she had barely survived the zombie apocalypse. “My agent says I’ll probably be able to get some catalog work. Maybe some national spots.”
“Right, as soon as you get off the bathroom floor.”
“Morning sickness doesn’t last forever.”
“Then you don’t remember when Mom was pregnant with Olivia.”
The memory of her mother, shuffling around the house,gray-faced and miserable during the entire pregnancy, gave Ryan’s stomach a slimy twist, and she looked away from her brother’s damning eyes.
“Women have babies by themselves in New York City all the time. I’m hardly alone.”
But she felt it. She really did. So alone her entire life was just an echo chamber, her mistakes bouncing back at her.
Outside in the hallway, someone yelled and a metal tray was dropped. The noise was so loud she flinched.
“I can help,” he said. “But even I can’t support you and a baby in New York City. I don’t have that kind of cash.”
“I don’t want your help.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Don’t yell at me, Wes,” she cried. “You can’t demand access and answers from me when your whole damn life is a secret.”
“This isn’t about me! It’s about you and your baby.” He threw his hands up in the air. “Day care. Schools. That one-room closet you call an apartment. You need help. Point-blank. End of story. And I know you’ve been living your life on your own terms for a long time, but if you plan on having this baby you’re gonna have to get over yourself.”
Get over myself , she thought, and nearly laughed. He said it like pride was a luxury when it was all she had left. The only thing that her family, her ex-husband, her life hadn’t taken away from her.
The vague upset in her stomach that she’d gotten used to was suddenly eclipsed by head-to-toe chills, her skin breaking out in goose bumps.
The price of the baby , she thought, putting her hands over her stomach, will be my pride .
She’d known after the night with Harry that there would be more to pay.
Her brother’s glowing intensity was suddenly too much and she looked away, staring blindly toward the silent news on the television.
Behind the dark-haired anchor with apple cheeks, the words Kidnapped by Somali Pirates flashed red and yellow.
Wes grabbed the remote from the bedside table and turned up the volume.
“What is this?” she asked, happily jumping on the distraction.
“You haven’t been following
Similar Books
