Total pages in book: 32
Estimated words: 29962 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 150(@200wpm)___ 120(@250wpm)___ 100(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 29962 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 150(@200wpm)___ 120(@250wpm)___ 100(@300wpm)
It takes a few moments for my nausea to calm down. But once it does, I gargle some mouthwash and call Dotty back.
She asks if I’m OK, and I explain, “Yeah, my fruit smoothie didn’t sit right with me today.”
“I’m sorry. That’s miserable. Do you have a stomach virus?”
“No, I’ve got a stomach of steel,” I answer, parroting what my mom always used to say. The lawyer and I got the details of my mom’s estate worked out. He’s handling everything. I had to give him legal power to do it on my behalf when I explained that I didn’t want to deal with it. He promised me that once he was done, I’d never have to hear her name again.
“But I did toss cookies yesterday. Literal cookies from my favorite bakery down the street. I was so upset,” I tell her as I start the shower water and warm it up.
“Any chance you could be pregnant?” Dotty asks in a teasing tone.
I freeze and start doing the calculations. That was six weeks ago. Can you start getting morning sickness that fast?
“Is that yes?” Dotty can barely contain her squeak of excitement. “Am I about to be an honorary auntie?”
“No,” I croak out. “No, of course not.”
She makes a little noise of disappointment. “I thought maybe you left the reception early because you were hooking up with someone.”
I scoff, my mind still spinning. It can’t be true. There’s no way I could be pregnant. We used a condom every single time, and he never mentioned any of them breaking. “I told you. I had to get to work, so I couldn’t stay to mingle. Speaking of, I have to get to it. Was there a reason you were calling this early?”
“I wanted the name of that little Japanese restaurant where you introduced me to their noodle dishes. Zac promised to pick me up some when we’re in Nashville for that benefit concert he’s doing before Valentine’s Day.”
I rattle off the information for the restaurant, barely able to concentrate on telling her goodbye. The moment I hang up, I start a new search on my phone.
“Pregnancy can be detected as early as six weeks with over-the-counter tests,” I mutter and start counting on my fingers, trying to remember if I had a period recently. I’m not on birth control pills because they make me feel sick. That’s why I always kept condoms. But my period tends to be pretty irregular.
I pace anxiously and read my phone as the shower water continues to steam up the bathroom. I never thought this would be something I’d be thinking about, wondering if I was pregnant when I was alone.
I mean, not that I ever had a picture of some big, burly man and a family with him. I assumed I’d be one of those women who grew old alone while being fabulously dressed and living a happy, independent life.
My breathing gets shallow as I think about how alone I am. Having a baby is a big deal, and there’s no one here. No one to help me figure this out.
“Stop. Breathe,” I tell myself and begin doing that breathing exercise from the sleeping meditations I listen to at night. Ever since I left Jasper’s cabin, I’ve had the worst trouble falling asleep. I lie awake for hours wishing his thick beard was tickling my face and that his arms were around me, holding me close.
I still have his faded shirt. I’ve stopped sleeping in my soft, silky pajamas that come from the luxury store. Instead, I’m in his flannel, desperately trying to catch another whiff of his scent again. Sometimes, I catch it and can almost convince myself that I’m back in his massive bed.
When I’ve regulated my breathing again, I do what I’ve always done. I start making a list of action items. First thing, send a message to Skye and let her know I won’t be at work today. The next task is going to the pharmacy down the street to figure out if I’m really pregnant.
I don’t remember much of the next hour. Only that I find myself back in my bathroom, pacing again. But this time, I’m waiting for a timer to ding and anxiously peering at a stick every three seconds. Is that line darkening? Is it turning pink? Do I want it to be pink? Am I ready to have a baby?
When my phone finally dings, I stare at the pregnancy test results. Positive.
“That’s not true,” I mutter as I grab another test. Clearly, I used a defective test. Good thing I bought extras. But after four tests from four different brands, I finally admit the truth to myself. I’m pregnant.
My first instinct is to call Dotty. I want to lean on her for support. But she’ll tell Zac, and Zac is best friends with Jasper. Shit, what am I even going to tell Jasper? Does he want to be a father?