Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 67000 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 335(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67000 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 335(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
I took it and was just about to pop it into my mouth when I saw the small white pill. It wouldn’t have struck me as odd had I not seen a similar pill yesterday when a woman had come in with hives. I’d given her a steroid…oh, sweet Mary, mother of God.
Quaid picked up the bathmat covered in puke and tossed it into the laundry basket folded in quarters.
“Um,” I said carefully. “Quaid. Can you bring me both of our pills and let me see them?”
He frowned, but nonetheless reached over me to grab both packets of pills.
That’s when I swallowed hard and said, “Quaid.”
There was a long moment and then, “Yeah?”
“Which one of these have you been taking every morning?” I asked.
He moved, pulled back the pack of prednisone, and then said, “This one.”
I was already shaking my head, showing him the pill he’d handed me. “No. Because you handed me this one.”
He took the small pill from me, then looked first at my package of birth control pills, then his packet of prednisone, and then stilled.
He went so still I wasn’t even sure he was breathing.
“Yeah…” I said as he realized what he’d done.
“I’ve… You’ve… Holy shit,” he breathed.
We met at Walgreens on his lunch break.
My final exam was over, and I’d already gotten the grade back.
I’d passed with flying colors, and I would be graduating in two weeks.
And though I had a lot on my mind during that test, it wasn’t so bad that I couldn’t work through it.
But now that I was done…
I needed answers.
ASAP.
“What are we meeting here for?” Germaine asked, wrinkling his nose.
“We’re meeting here because your son decided to switch out his prednisone for my birth control pills,” I said.
“He’s still taking that?” he asked.
“Intermittently,” I admitted. “They weren’t really working. The doc kept prescribing them because he was still having issues. He was on and off of it since he started the steroid weeks ago. On his off weeks, I’ve not been taking my actual pills. Which is why I think I didn’t catch on as fast. But it was apparently enough that I now suspect I’m pregnant.”
“When was your last period?” Germaine asked as we both walked into Walgreens.
I saw Quaid immediately.
Dressed in his customary black tactical pants, black boots, and black t-shirt that said, ‘Dallas Police’ on it, I was momentarily stunned by his hotness.
Germaine pushed me forward and I answered him almost automatically, not finding it weird at all that my boyfriend’s father was asking about my menstrual cycle.
Maybe I was just jaded thanks to working as a medical professional for the last few years.
“About five or so weeks ago,” I admitted as we came to a stop in front of Quaid.
He caught me up in his arms and pulled me to him, nodding at his dad. “Thanks for bringing her by, old man.”
“I feel like maybe I should teach you how to be more observant,” he said as a way of greeting. “I mean, I know you’re not a detective like me and your brother, but the pills look different, don’t they?”
Quaid’s lips twitched and he handed me the bag. “Bathroom is in the back. Let’s go.”
I was already rolling my eyes. “I’ll do it at the restaurant next door.”
The restaurant next door was Panera, and though it wasn’t my favorite, they had really good brownies that had the perfect amount of powdered sugar on them.
“Fine,” Quaid said as we all fell into step out the door and to the Panera around the corner.
Quaid escorted me to the bathroom and checked the room before standing outside like a sentinel.
I rolled my eyes and disappeared into a stall, laughing to myself when I pulled out five different pregnancy tests from five different brands.
I peed on them all, washed up, then headed to the hall where I handed the bag to Quaid.
He took them and looked at them warily.
“Are you still nauseous?” he wondered as he escorted me to our table.
I was already shaking my head before he finished. “I’ve been fine since this morning.”
“That tracks with being pregnant…” he admitted.
I took my seat and raised my brows at Germaine, who was chowing down on a brownie without waiting for his lunch.
“That better not be mine,” I narrowed my eyes at him.
“You know,” he said. “This explains your obsession with eating everyone’s snack cakes.”
“Speaking of snack cakes,” I turned to look at Quaid. “Your dad and I got our toes done this morning. Look at my toes.”
The nail tech had painted snack cakes on all of my toes but my pinky one because apparently, I was in the no pinky nail club.
Quaid’s eyes widened as he looked at them then to his dad. “You got your toes done?”
He nodded. “They shelk-lacked them.”
“Shellac,” I giggled. “And he painted his red, white and blue for the Fourth of July.”