Professor Astor by Catharina Maura EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: Catharina Maura
- Language: English
- Genre: New Adult & College Romance
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
LEIA
“You ready to go, sweetheart?” Mom asks, her head popping into my room.
There’s concern in her voice that she tries to hide behind a smile, but I know
my mother well enough to see through it.
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“Yes, Mom,” I tell her, pasting a reassuring smile onto my face, even
though my heart is racing, a familiar ache spreading with each heartbeat. I
grab my favorite handbag with fingers that tremble just slightly, tightening
my grip around the luxurious leather straps as I lift it onto my shoulder.
“Can you believe Asha was in labor for fourteen hours? That’s not
something you ever want to experience,” Mom says, her voice high-pitched,
the way it always is when she’s rambling. “It’ll take her months to recover
from that, you know? Pregnancy is so hard on women.”
I nod and smile, swallowing down my misery. The truth is that I do want
to be in labor for fourteen hours. Hell, I’ll happily breathe through three full
days of labor if it means I get to have a child of my own.
Mom often does this. She tries to downplay the significance of having
children, as though that’ll make me want them less. She’ll take my sister as
an example of how tired I’d be, how hard it is, and how many things I’d have
to sacrifice. Her intentions are good, they always are, but she fails to realize
that I want all the bad right along with the good.
“Sounds awful,” I tell her absentmindedly, and she smiles shakily, a hint
of relief in her eyes. Sometimes I wonder if her attempts to console me are
more for her own benefit. I bite down on my lip and shake my head slightly,
berating myself for my thoughts.
It’s not my mother’s fault I had ovarian cancer in my teens, and it
definitely isn’t her fault I developed primary ovarian insufficiency from the
chemo, rendering me as good as infertile. I know she’s as heartbroken as I
am, but it doesn’t make her attempts to console me feel any better. It’s pity at
its finest, and I hate being pitied.
“There you two are,” Dad says, his expression as blank as it always is.
“Let’s go. Always late, we are,” he grumbles in his best Yoda impression, his
attempt to lighten the mood. I force a smile for his benefit as I follow him to
the car.
I’m quiet as we drive to my sister’s house, wishing I could’ve made an
excuse not to go. I desperately wanted to stay home, but I know that if I’d
done that, Mom would’ve worried about me.
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