Page 33 of Written in the Charts

CHAPTERTWENTY-TWO

Gypsy

I waitedas Evan scurried away to clean up. My pussy was aching for him to help me. I swirled my fingers in my juices and tasted them, the salty sweet taste just as arousing to me as the thought of sucking him off. My clit was tender, hardened beneath my touch. I wanted to come.

“Shit, baby, that was amazing.” Evan panted as he returned to the call. I could hear his voice more clearly and knew he had taken me off speaker phone. I grinned, knowing my words had helped him feel good, and pushed my fingers inside myself. Just being aware of his orgasm made my body want one too, so badly I started looking around the room searching for something to use as a toy.

“You are so incredible, Gypsy. I’ve never felt so in love with anyone. You really know how to take care of me. Thank you.”

I paused, feeling a bit anxious. I was grateful to him for appreciating my love and my attempts to help him feel sexually satisfied, but the high praise made me draw back. I was guilty—I was lying to him, and he didn’t know it yet. I had the sudden urge to tell him about the baby now, but it didn’t feel right. It was something I needed to say to him in person, see his face when I told him.

Guilt weighed me down, and the arousal I felt soiling the space between my legs with moisture suddenly left me. I rubbed myself, hoping to rekindle the desire, but it was gone. I sighed, flopping down onto the pillow and ceasing my search for the perfect toy. When the moment was ruined, it was ruined. There was no point in trying to force it. I’d get off, but I would feel horrible for doing it now.

“You’re welcome, bud.” Frustrated by my own guilty feelings, I pressed my eyes shut and reached for a tissue to dry up the mess.

“You want me to help you? Maybe we can switch to zoom or something.” His heart to take care of me almost made me cry, but I blinked away the tears as quickly as I wiped away the wetness from my soft folds.

“I’m okay, really. I’m exhausted from the day, and I still need to cram a bit more studying in.” I lied—again. I had my books open, but I’d done nothing but scroll through my social media since I got home. There had been no studying, and there would be no studying now.

“You sound down. Are you okay?”

I sighed, wanting to tell him I wasn’t okay at all, that I needed to say something important to him, that it had been a week already that I knew. I held my tongue, afraid that I’d tell him too soon and something tragic would happen. The amount of pain I’d lived through when I lost Chloe—no one should ever have to feel that. I couldn’t put Evan through that.

No, I’d wait until I was certain everything was fine.

“I’m really okay. I’m just super tired. Maybe you can tuck me in?” It was something sweet we had started doing, sending each other text messages at bedtime to get those last few love tokens out before sleeping. We’d made it a tradition to do so, even when Evan had to work later and was still on duty when I was lying down. He’d sneak away somewhere or use the toilet for just long enough to text me a few quick messages.

“Of course. You go get ready, and I’ll be waiting.” He cleared his throat. I could tell he was a bit disappointed, but he didn’t say anything. “I love you, girl.”

“I love you too. I’ll message in a few minutes.” I hung up, knowing I was not going to sleep at all, yet another lie piling on top of the previous ones. The guilt of keeping secrets from him weighed on me to the point I could only lie there and stare at my phone. I didn't dress for bed or shut the light off. I didn’t brush my teeth or even take the hair tie out of my messy bun. In fact, I lay there staring at the black screen of my phone feeling sorry for myself for so long that he messaged me to see what was taking so long.

Evan 11:26PM:Are you there yet?

Gypsy 11:27PM: Yep, just climbed into bed.

Evan 11:28PM: Sleep well, sweet girl. I’ll be here when you wake up if you want to do coffee.

Gypsy 11:29PM: Sounds good... You dream of me tonight, and we’ll meet in dreamland.

Evan 11:29PM: If you wake up horny, touch yourself.

He senta winky face and an eggplant emoji and I sighed. I’d love nothing more than to wake up in his arms with this secret behind us, but I was too afraid. It wasn’t time yet. I needed to be sure I wasn’t going to lose this baby like I had Chloe.

Gypsy 11:30PM:Goodnight then

Evan 11:31PM: Goodnight.

I put my phone down,confident that the conversation was over, then started stacking my books. It was late, and even though I knew I should study at least a little bit, I had no mental energy for that. I pushed them all to the far corner of the bed and looked at my cold pillow, willing myself not to collapse and pout. I at least needed to take my makeup off.

I trudged to the bathroom with that goal in mind, but a hot shower sounded better than cold makeup wipes, so I turned the water on. I had lived alone for several years now, but somehow tonight, being alone felt like being in prison. Only, this prison was of my own making. I built a wall around my heart a long time ago, a wall which kept everyone out and me safe.

The wall was built with the goal of not feeling pain ever again, but I hadn’t expected Evan to show up and sneak his way back into my life. And I definitely hadn’t expected to be pregnant. The hot sex we had happened so fast each time that I never thought about protection, and we’d had sex so many times when I was younger for months and months without my getting pregnant, I thought maybe it was a low likelihood.

I was wrong.

The steamy water washed over my skin as I stood beneath it, and I shut the curtain so it stayed inside the tub. My one respite was a nice hot bath or shower, a safe place to think and feel numbed by the sensation of water droplets pounding against my skin. It had become a therapy to me after I lost Chloe and was more so now than ever. I washed myself, but mostly out of an unconscious habit. My thoughts were lost.

I remember the day I discovered I was bleeding. I was terrified, panicked. Even as a teenager I knew bleeding during pregnancy wasn’t good. I was an adult, though, so my mom and dad couldn’t do much more than drive me to the emergency room. I would never forget the way I was treated, like I was somehow less of a person for being pregnant so young. Being in such a small town was bad for that. There were still places that treated girls that way—sex was bad, and you were horrible for getting pregnant, a slut or worse.

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