Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 135955 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 680(@200wpm)___ 544(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135955 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 680(@200wpm)___ 544(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
Her lips twitch. “Was the bomb your doing?”
“Deny ‘til I die.”
“Well, in that case, this should be a piece of cake.”
“I like cake.”
“You’re in love, am I correct?” She shoots straight to the point with the unusual question.
“How did you know that?”
“The look on your face earlier when you were thinking about him.”
“What does that have to do with IV therapy?”
“Nothing, but something you said didn’t sit right. While notating your file, I found the electronic version of your questionnaire skipped a page.”
“Not enjoying the cake yet.”
“Food poisoning effects vary and are unpredictable. But after four days, it shouldn’t suck the life out of you unless you’re still experiencing symptoms.”
“It was pretty gross.”
“Usually is.”
“You think it was something more serious?”
“You tell me. When was your last menstrual cycle?”
A date automatically pops into my head, but when I open my mouth, nothing comes out. My cycle is precise—every twenty-five days to the tee. But I haven’t had a period since… when?
The realization hits with a paralyzing force. My brain computes the days back forty-eight days. “Oh my God.” I grow lightheaded, my vision blurry as a five-alarm ringing sounds in my ears.
“Jewls?” Zanie ducks in my line of sight, pressing a straw to my lips. “Drink this.”
The fruity taste of raspberries explodes on my tongue, and I swallow greedily.
“Slow down and sip,” she instructs softly, pulling the drink away.
My vision returns with neon flashing the word ‘pregnant’. The cold liquid curdles in my abdomen, and I leap over the chair, barely making it to the sink before my stomach revolts.
“That drink is packed with vitamins to help you restore your natural energies. Apparently, your body rejected it.”
“I’m… it’s not possible… I’m on birth control.”
She doesn’t comment because really, how stupid do I sound? Birth control isn’t fool proof.
“Let’s get you back to the chair.”
She helps me sit, handing me what looks like a piece of candy. “This is made with ginger. It will help settle your stomach.”
“How did this happen?”
She stays quiet, again letting me work through my ignorant questions on my own. Then the denial hits.
“This is a fluke. No way I’m pregnant.”
“Only one way to find out.”
The thought of buying a pregnancy test makes me woozy all over again. As if she reads my mind, she reaches under the counter and hands me a box.
“This spa specializes in all areas, including fertility therapy. We send our patients home with tests.”
I finally find the nerve to meet her eyes, and when I do, tears threaten. She’s watching me thoughtfully, without an iota of judgment.
“You don’t have to do it here, Jewls. Take it when you’re ready. From your reaction, this is unplanned?”
“You can say that.”
“Maybe I’m wrong. But fifteen years in nursing and four children later, my gut is telling me you’re pregnant.”
“Always trust your gut.”
She nods.
“I need to take the test.”
“There’s a bathroom through the door if you’d like to do it here.”
I stare at the box, unsure of what I want. Right now, my emotions are convinced that this is only a possibility. But my logical side knows the truth.
Zanie senses my apprehension and squeezes my shoulder. “Take your time. If you need me, I’ll be at the nurse’s station. But if you want to deal with this in private, that’s understandable, too. Whatever the outcome, I’d suggest getting to your doctor.”
She flashes me a supportive smile, leaving me alone.
I take the test to the bathroom and numbly go through the motions. The test isn’t one of the fancy modern types. No frills, no words, just the basics.
It takes no time at all for the indicator window to show two pink lines. Of course, it’s positive. This is Major Powers we’re talking about. Everything about the man screams power and purpose. He does nothing halfway.
The image of super sperm with fists raised in the air in pumps of victory flashes in my mind, and I bark out a laugh. “You’re losing it, Jewls.”
The image disappears, replaced by the thought of a teeny tiny speck of life growing inside me.
A baby.
My baby.
My baby with Major.
A wave of protection takes over with a new sense of purpose. My mind goes on overdrive, thinking of all that has to be done. Before I tell Major, I need to see my doctor.
But for now, I must act normal. No one can know.
Tomorrow, I’ll make an emergency appointment and confirm. Then I’ll figure out the next steps.
Prenatal vitamins, folic acid, magnesium, ginger root tea—check, check, check, and check.
I re-read the list my doctor gave me this morning after she confirmed I am definitely pregnant.
Prego.
Knocked–up.
Up the duff.
With child.
Bun in the oven.
I crack up, snorting loudly. “You’re a nut,” I say to myself, reaching for a bottle of calcium supplements.
“You’re certainly something.” A smooth, snide voice comes from behind, and I swing around.
Darla Strauss, in all her magnificent glory, stands sneering at me.