Rise: Populations Crumble, Book 2 by Gandy, A. (animal farm read .TXT) 📗

pauses for a second, mulling it over. “Oh, actually it’s fine. I’m married now, Faith can give you the talk—she’s done this before.” He seems pleased with this revelation.

I just shake my head at him. “No, I’m fine. Really, just tired. Also should you be foisting stuff off on your wife already? Isn’t it a little early in the game to start bad habits?” I rib, hoping to distract him from my issues.

He scoffs. “Bad habits? Best habits, you mean.”

Patrick makes his way back to our seat, and scooches in past my voluminous gown. Faith is back a minute later, and to my utter mortification Teddy does not let the conversation drop.

“Hey, babe, Sadie here has wedding night nerves. Think you can give her a pep talk?” He waggles his eyebrows at her, and she smacks his chest. Patrick stiffens beside me.

“Teddy! Leave your sister alone.” She turns to face me. “If you actually want to talk, you know I’m always here. We sisters have to be there for each other, right?” The smile she gives me is warm, and I can tell she really means it.

I smile back, appreciating the sentiment. “Thanks Faith, but I think I’m okay.”

She settles back into her seat, and Teddy slips his arm back around her. She rests her head on his shoulder, and my heart clenches painfully. I force myself to look out the window instead, as the scenery slips by in the darkness. The drive slips by in silence, and then we’re pulling up in front of what appears to be a large guest house. The white board siding reflects in the moonlight, looking old and stately. I can’t see much else, but I can hear the ocean close by, and taste the salt in the air as we step off the shuttle stairs.

Pink-shirted staff come out and take our bags from Todd, and an older gentleman with slicked back salt-and-pepper hair approaches us.

“Good evening, newlyweds! My name is Jared, and I’m so pleased to welcome you to the Mairmont Honeymoon Resort! We’re so glad you chose to start your new family with us. Please follow me inside, and we’ll get you settled into your rooms as quickly as possible.” He turns and leads us into the guest house. “Gentlemen, if you’d step over here, I have a few things to discuss with you. Ladies, there are hot beverages and fresh pastries on the side board; do help yourselves. I’ll have your dashing grooms back to you momentarily.” He may be older, but the toothpaste-ad grin he shoots us could be Eric’s twin.

Faith and I go inspect the pastries, and once we’ve both gotten one, we take a seat in one of the plush wingback chairs surrounding the sitting area. I’ve got a cheese Danish halfway to my mouth when she asks quietly, “Are you sure you’re okay? I was serious earlier, I don’t mind talking with you if you’ve got questions. Or concerns. Anything you need to know, I’m here.”

My mouth is full of pastry. “Fimlj otkah” I quickly swallow it down and try again. “I’m okay, thank you. Patrick and I are going to take our time, not rush into anything right away. So, I may have questions, but not tonight.” I give her a reassuring smile, hoping she’ll let it drop.

“I see.” She grimaces. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, and I’m sure we’ll get dragged to a presentation tomorrow, as that’s how it usually goes. But, the director frowns pretty heavily on taking things too slowly.” I freeze mid-bite, and she continues, “They’re going to expect you to track . . . things in your fertility app, and you’ll be expected to test each month and report results. If you aren’t tracking as expected you could be sent for an”—she does finger quotes— “intensive getaway.”

My mouth drops open. “Are you serious? It’s not enough to marry us off and keep us here, away from our families. They expect to police when and how often we . . .” I trail off, unsure how to process that information. I put my head in my hands.

Faith leans over and puts a hand on my shoulder. “It’s going to be okay, Sadie. My fertile week starts soon, but yours doesn’t, right? What does your tracker say?” I look to my wrist, where it usually sits.

“I’m not sure exactly, but I think ten days or so?” I’m so used to having it there now, I find myself rubbing the spot absentmindedly.

“See, that’s good. You’ve got a little time to take things slow.” She tries to reassure me.

“I mean, they won’t know if we maybe track something that didn’t really happen to keep them off our backs, right? To buy a little more time to ease into things?” I say quietly, not wanting to draw the attention of the hovering staff to our conversation.

Her lips press into a grim line. “Technically, no. But with my first husband Bill, a couple at our honeymoon in Campetán were a ninety percent match, and after their third month they were sent for extra testing when they didn’t have results. You two are a ninety-nine percent, right?” I nod. “Yeah, so, I wouldn’t want you to have to deal with more tests. Don’t put it off too long, okay? Ease into it, sure. But remember the longer you put something off, the more stressful it can feel.”

Her look turns compassionate, and I look down at my half-eaten pastry, unable to meet her eyes anymore. I know she’s right, and if it weren’t for the deception I probably would have no problem taking her advice. Hopefully we’re able to work something out before it causes us issues with the director.

“Who’s ready to get out of those dresses?” Teddy walks up jangling a room key. I’m surprised to see it’s actually a large, antique looking key with a decorative lobster tail attached, instead of an automatic fob like we had back at the NLC.

Patrick is hot