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" I'd no sooner obeyed when he picked up the rhythm. He released his grip on my hair and both hands moved to hold my right hip, to pull himself into me. The staccato sound of skin smacking skin filled the room among our irregular breaths. The grunts and cries between them coming from us both.
And in short order. He rested one hand near my head. The moment he touched my bare breast with his other hand, my eyes drifted closed. Thank God, he didn't tell me to open them again.
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My trip to the doctor three days ago had been two-fold: I'd wanted to check out the consistent rasp in my breathing; and I was scheduled to have my first ultrasound. Except that the technician couldn't find a heartbeat. I'd gone back today to get the second blood test to check my hCG levels. 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.
"I know it probably doesn't mean much, but I'm sorry. " The words 'too little, too late,' came to mind, but I kept my mouth shut. Partly because I was stunned he was finally admitting he'd wronged me, and I didn't want him to take it back. "This past year must have been horrible for you with me always hanging around.