Alright guys, if you feel like this story is dragging on, please let me know. I love this story. I love Carmen and Tyler. Should I make a fourth sequel, or should I do a time skip, or should I finish it?
Please be honest and please let me know.
Carmen Cerda.
If you googled that, you'd get the definition of misery.
Literally, you google the definition of misery and google is going to put my name.
I'm eight and a half months pregnant.
I'm the biggest bitch in the world.
I snap at everybody.
I'm thirty eight weeks. I'm miserable, I'm pissy, I'm angry.
I want the babies out.
I can't sleep because the kids are fucking nocturnal and they kick me all the time.
If Tyler does so much as look at me, I get pissed.
I want to have sex so badly, but I can't even walk down the stairs without help.
I'm so angry all the time.
Blake is back around, but he's keeping his distance so Delaney doesn't find out. It's mid-March.
Snow is all over the ground.
I hate being pregnant.
It's three in the morning.
I'm going to the store and I'm getting fucking barbeque chips.
I didn't tell anybody.
I'm in Walmart now. I left my phone at home because I don't need Tyler fucking pissing me off.
Annoyed, I grab the chip and go to the counter.
The woman checks me out, smiling.
"When are you due?" she asks.
"The 29th." I mutter. "But it's twins. They're gonna be out soon."
She smiles
"That's awesome. Are they your first?" she asks.
I sigh, shaking my head.
"Fourth and fifth." I say, swiping my card.
I've been having contractions for a week, but it's honestly nothing to be worried about.
Tyler knows. I'm not worried about it.
She hangs me my bag and I walk out to the car.
When I reach the Range Rover, I feel a contraction.
Whatever.
I put my gloved hand on the frozen car door, breathing hard.
Slowly, it passes.
I feel a gentle popping sound, and then water running down my legs.
I look down, watching the puddle I'm standing in begin to melt the ice at my feet.
I hesitate.
I should probably go to the hospital now.
I get in the car, opening the bag of chips.
I wait twenty minutes for the engine to heat up, and I drive with my left hand, contractions hitting intensely.
I eat my barbeque chips, parking in the back of the parking lot.
