Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 66859 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 334(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66859 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 334(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
I stare at him, horrified. “What is wrong with you?”
“I need answers, you’re not goin’ to give them to me, so I’ll get them myself.”
“I’ve given you every god damned answer there is,” I yell, throwing my hands up. “You just don’t want to believe that your bitch of a woman would do that to you, but you wait, Beckett. When you see her, she’s going to tell you and you’ll owe me so fucking hard. I might be a lot of things, but I have always been truthful with you.”
“Bullshit,” he roars. “If you were truthful you would have fuckin’ told me what Rocco said and we could have figured it out.”
“You never would have believed me,” I scream. “You don’t believe me now. Why the hell would I trust that you would believe me over her when you’re fucking in love with her?”
“I’m not in love with her,” he bellows. “You stupid fucking woman. You think you know everything but you don’t.”
I snap my mouth shut, jerking back like he’s hit me.
He shakes his head and throws his hands up. “Fuck,” he roars to the ceiling.
He closes his eyes for a minute, then opens them and hands me the test. “Piss on the fuckin’ stick.”
I snatch it out of his hand. Fine, I’ll pee on the damn thing because I know for certain what the answer is going to be. We fucked once, and not even god hates me that much to make me pregnant that easily to man who despises me. Beckett opens the door and follows me out of the room, down the hall to the bathroom. Once I’m in there, I slam the door so he can’t come in, locking it.
He curses but he doesn’t argue.
I sit on the toilet and try to unwrap the pain in the ass pregnancy test. I don’t know how to fucking read this this, I stare at the two blank panels, none of this makes sense.
“How do I do this?” I yell through the door.
“Let me in and I’ll read the instructions.”
“I’d rather gouge my eyeball out while shoving it up my asshole,” I call back.
He goes silent for a second.
“Hold it under the stream for twenty seconds, then put the cap back on.”
“If I pee on my hand,” I snap, “I’m going to come out there and stick this up your bloody ass.”
He doesn’t answer.
“Fucking pregnancy test,” I mutter to myself, trying to get myself to pee. “Bloody pushy bikers.”
I manage to get myself to wee, and when I do, I count to twenty after peeing on my hand more than once, and pull the stick out.
“Yuck,” I grunt. “They couldn’t have come up with something cleaner by now? We’re not in the damned stone age.”
I shove the cap on, slam it on the sink and then finish my wee and clean up. I wash my hands and then stare at the test sitting upside down on the sink. Now what?
“What now?” I call.
“Wait five minutes.”
“Seriously?” I exhale. “God, you think we would have come further with technology by now.”
I sit quietly, staring at myself in the mirror, washing my face to freshen up, and then I slide my bottom onto the counter by the sink and swing my legs, waiting.
“I hope you’re keeping count, because I’m not.”
“You goin’ to let me in?”
“No,” I say. “No need for us to be doing this together. In a minute it’ll say negative and we’ll be done here.”
I’ve literally never done a pregnancy test in my life, so I have no idea what I’m looking for. On all the movies it’s always a cross, so maybe that is what I need to look for. A big old plus sign.
“You can look,” he calls.
“Oh, thank god.”
I pick it up and turn it over, studying it. No big plus symbol, that must mean I’m not pregnant. Thank the sweet lord for that, I couldn’t think of anything worse right now then to be knocked up with a man who can’t stand me.
“No big plus symbol, we’re good,” I say, jumping to my feet.
“It’s not a plus symbol,” he yells out, and I pause. “One line is negative, two lines is positive. How many fuckin’ lines are there, Poppy?”
I go silent, my hand starts to shake as I glance down at the test again.
No.
Please god no.
Staring up at me are two bright red lines.
I’m pregnant.
I’m fucking pregnant.
“WHY AREN’T YOU ANSWERING me? Open the fuckin’ door,” Beckett bellows, banging his fist down on the flimsy wooden door, over and over.
I stare at the stick in my hand, praying it’ll change if I just look at it long enough.
It isn’t changing. If anything, it’s getting bolder and bolder, laughing at me.
Taunting me.
“Poppy, I swear to fuckin’ god....”
I reach forward and unlock the door. Within a few seconds, it swings open and Beckett steps in. He looks to me and then down at the stick. For a minute, he just stares at it, much the same as I was. His eyes widen, and then his face pales. I bet I look the same right about now.