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His lips were so warm when they brushed mine.
I'd started sniffling and coughing almost two weeks ago after my thirtieth birthday celebration (which had consisted of just the two of us, a bottle of chocolate sauce, a container of whipped topping, my little toy box, and the kitchen island). But there was more to my current demeanor.
He'd even wagered he could get more completed than me, so it made the hours go by a little faster.
I just stared for a minute, gawking.
I kept pacing the length of the kitchen, pausing every few passes to glance at my phone on the counter.
I never did drugs. Didn't care much for alcohol.
"Holly!" Chris turned off the water and climbed into the tub, too, gathering me in a towel.
After the doctor gave me the news that I'd miscarried, I'd sat in my car for a good thirty minutes staring out at the parking lot but not paying attention to the people and other cars moving about. I'd wanted my mom more than anything at that moment.