The book Full of Grace was written by author Misty Provencher Here you can read free online of Full of Grace book, rate and share your impressions in comments. If you don't know what to write, just answer the question: Why is Full of Grace a good or bad book?
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Sher says on the way back to my apartment. I grip the steering wheel on a turn. I should feel absolutely trapped, that Sher is waffling on the paternity test, but for some reason, my chest relaxed the moment the doctor agreed that she was pregnant.“That option is off the table,” I say.“They could still do it…” she says, but her voice gets stringy and she presses her mouth on the back of her hand, looking out the window, while the tears roll down her face. I’m tired of seeing her cry. I wish i...t would rile up some anger in me, but all it does is give me this dark anxiety, like I’m watching a tornado rip the roof off a friend’s house. Instead, it makes me feel helpless. That’s it.“I wouldn’t let them do that,” I say. “I think the paternity tests are…”“I’m not getting needles stuck through my stomach or up my hobbit hole.”“Uh, yeah,” I chuckle. “You’re right. The tests are either too risky or a couple thousand bucks. If you’re not willing to do the blood test, than I our only option right now is the Wait-And-See.”Her voice is small. “This isn’t fair.”“No, it’s not.” I say. I turn into my apartment parking lot and cut the engine. I should be more upset that she refused to do the paternity test. I could’ve pushed her to let me pay for it and I’m sure she would’ve given in. But what’s worse is that I don’t know if I could stand to find out that this baby isn’t mine anymore. *** I carry Sher’s ruined gym bag in for her. I collapse on the couch, putting my feet up on the coffee table, exhausted. Sher flits from the recliner cushion that she realizes is still damp from the ice, but she doesn’t mention it. She gets a towel and presses it to the cushion to soak up the moisture. When she’s done, she leaves the living room and I flip on the TV.She reappears, her hair tied back, and rifles the kitchen cupboards for garbage bags. She disappears, dragging one behind her and I hear her moving stuff around in my room. During a commercial, she walks across the hall into the bathroom. I hear the squeak of the cupboard in there too and then she’s in the hall, opening the linen closet. She finds the limited supply of cleaners I have stashed there and takes them back into the bathroom. I hear the water run, I hear her wringing out a rag at intervals.“What are you doing?”
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