Forever with You

Do not insert the test stick in your vagina.

Was that seriously an instruction that needed to be given to someone?

Carefully opening the package, I pulled out the stick and walked into my bathroom. I removed the purple cap as my stomach roiled.

My heart pounded like I was ru

Then I ran from my bathroom, like legit sprinted out of the bathroom.

Pacing the length of my living room, I knew I only needed to wait for two minutes, but two minutes turned into five and five minutes turned into ten. I wasn’t ready. Ru

But what if there was a little, happy negative sign?

But what if there was a really scary plus sign?

I eyed the remaining unused boxes on the counter and kept wearing a path in the hardwood floors. I’d always been so damn careful in the past. I’d never feared the chance of becoming pregnant, and now that there was a possibility I could be, I didn’t know what to do.

Never in my life did I feel so . . . so helpless.

Actually, that wasn’t true. When I was fifteen and there were two men in pristine, dignified uniforms knocking on our front doors. When I stood on the stairs and the blood had drained from my mother’s face when she saw them, I had felt helpless then.

I loathed that feeling, hated the memories it dredged to the surface. Seconds when our whole entire life changed, never to be the same. Air leaked out of me. Coming to a stop in front of the TV, I realized I could be in the very same position, standing on that very razor-sharp edge of monumental change

Or I could just be freaking out.

A good forty minutes had passed since I placed the test on my sink. I needed to go look at it. Get this over with, like I knew I had to. I wasn’t a coward. I could face this, no matter what. Biting down on my lower lip, I charged down the hall and into the bathroom. My reflection in the mirror told me I looked as out of control as I felt. My hair was now all over the place and my eyes were wide, pupils dilated.

I looked like some psycho in a hockey mask was after me.

Shoulders stiffening, I slowly dragged my gaze away from my reflection to the white and purple tipped pregnancy test.

I saw the result.

I couldn’t un-see the result.

Plain as day, there was a very visible symbol that could only mean one thing. Only. One. Thing.

Maybe I let it sit too long. Or maybe I shouldn’t have put a cap on it. I needed to take another one. I had two more.

Hurrying into the kitchen, I picked up the other box. It was more high-tech. Not only did it give you a yes or no, but if it was a yes, it gave an estimated length of pregnancy. I didn’t have to go to the bathroom, though. Rushing to the cabinet, I grabbed a glass and filled it up, and when I finished with that one, I drank another, and then another, and then I waited.

I wasn’t thinking, hadn’t done anything other than force water down my throat. Less than an hour later I took the second test into the bathroom, did my thing, and then placed it next to the first one.

I didn’t leave the bathroom this time.

With my heart in my throat, I eyeballed the test as my hands clenched and unclenched at my sides until the pregnancy showed me the results once more.

The first thing I noticed was two numbers with a dash between them: 2-3.

And above that one word.

Pregnant.

Chapter 12

Just to start Monday off with a bang, I took the third pregnancy test that morning, and it, too, came back positive. Pregnant. Three tests with the same result, but there was still a tiny part of me that wanted to believe that I had done something wrong, that without a doctor confirming I was pregnant, there was a chance I wasn’t. But I wasn’t dumb nor was I seriously that naive. I knew that when I went to my doctor’s appointment next week, what the three tests had already told me and what I’d been experiencing the last week or so would confirm what I already knew.

And according to the really fancy test, I was two to three weeks past my last ovulation. Meaning I was roughly four to five weeks pregnant. The timing was spot on.

I was actually pregnant.

There was a bun in my oven.

I was knocked up.

Monday and Tuesday at work passed by with me in a numb daze. I don’t even know how I did my job or how I got through Rick’s endless insinuations and leering looks without losing my flipping mind.

My nerves were stretched taut and I felt sick to my stomach when I packed up Tuesday evening. The moment I turned off my computer, my thoughts immediately started swirling around what I was going to do. Should I get in contact with Nick? I hadn’t heard from him since last Wednesday. Should I tell anyone what was happening? Did I need to?

Was I going to go through with this—with this pregnancy? And if so, how would I tell my new boss that in roughly eight months I would be needing maternity leave? Better yet, how could I even raise a child on an income that I lived off comfortably, though that wouldn’t work if I included the cost of caring for a child.

Unaware of even walking to the elevator in the hall, after pushing the button I realized that I wasn’t alone. I glanced to my left. Rick, one half of the Steroid Twins, was standing there. I could barely swallow my sigh of frustration as I eyed him. A black skullcap was pulled down over his ears, and his cheeks were ruddier than normal. As always, his gaze wasn’t on my face. It was on my chest, which was absurd, because between my peacoat and my scarf, there was no way in hell that he could see anything.

God, I had bad timing in all things.

“You heading out?” he asked.

Considering it was the end of the day and everyone was leaving, I wasn’t quite sure how the answer to that question wasn’t obvious. “I’m leaving for the night.”

“Uh-huh,” he murmured, his gaze dropping to my pelvic area. My lips curled in distaste. “A couple of us are getting drinks. Want to join us?”

I plastered a tight smile on my lips. “Thank you, but I’m pretty tired.”

“You’re definitely pretty.” He leered, and I looked away, barely resisting the urge to roll my eyes. “And you’re always tired. You sure somethin’ isn’t wrong with you?”

My brows knitted. Oh, how accurate he was, and he had no idea. “I’m fine.”

“Then why don’t you come out with us?” he pressed, and my hand tightened on the strap of my purse. “What? Are you too good to go out and have a little fun? Maybe too uptight?”

I exhaled loudly, my patience wearing thin as I turned a cool gaze on him. “Yes. I’m that uptight.”

Thankfully, the elevator doors opened and I stepped in before he could respond, reaching for the button to close the door. Of course, I realized my mistake immediately. Rick followed, catching the door, and I mentally strung together an atrocity of fuck bombs.

He was actually smiling. “You have an attitude.”

I shot him a bland look, not even dignifying that with a response. Engaging with pervy Rick was the last thing I needed to deal with right now. Thank God there weren’t many floors to go down, and before this confrontation could go any further, the elevator jerked to the stop. The doors opened.

Rick had planted himself in the opening, smiling and not moving.

What a bastard.

Hands clenching into fists, I turned to the side to avoid touching him as I moved past, but at the last possible moment he stepped to the side. His front brushed against my stomach and hip. What I felt, what was so disgustingly obvious, sent a shiver of revulsion through me.