Page 31 of If Only You Hurt

Chapter Fourteen

LANEY

Fall 2012

I’m standing in my little bathroom, the early morning already showing me what a beautiful fall day we’ll have ahead. I wait with my timer on the phone, the seconds counting down before I turn the test over to see the results.

I’m late. I have never been late before. My period has been like clockwork since I first got it. The thing is, I completely lost track of time coming back to campus and getting life back into my college routine. Now I’m sitting here wondering if my life is about to change. My heart races as I think about how cataclysmic this will be if it turns out to have two little lines on this test.

Last night, I was out with Artie and Eugene, grabbing some food down the street. I felt nauseous from the smell wafting out from the kitchen, and it was then Artie’s eyes widened, and a scream pulled from him that could have shattered glass.

He put this crazy idea in my head that I could be pregnant, and of course, I couldn’t let it go. I barely slept last night, thinking of what this test could say.

Somehow, I waited until this morning to take it. I read online that the morning urine sample is the most concentrated, and I wanted to know for sure at this point. Plus, these damn tests are expensive. I don’t need a false negative and then have to buy a ton more to test every other day. What college student can afford such things? Not me, that’s for sure.

If I am pregnant, I wouldn’t be far along. But one thing is for certain: Grant is the father.

A smile spreads across my face just thinking of that scenario. We’re young, I know, but something about imagining Grant holding our baby, loving on our baby, makes my heart flutter.

The timer startles me out of my thoughts, and I quickly stop it from chiming. With shaky fingers, I grab the test and drag it closer to me, keeping it face down the entire time.

My gaze looks up, praying to whomever watches over me to please support me in whatever direction this test takes me.

Taking a deep breath, I bring my gaze back down to the little white stick and flip it over.

The moment I allow my brain to register what it’s seeing, my other hand flies to my mouth, and the tears that form are instant.

Holy fuck. I’m fucking pregnant!

I cannot believe it. Even though I tossed and turned, knowing this could be the case, seeing those two lines makes a hell of a difference. I’m filled with emotions that don’t even belong together—happiness, fear, concern, anticipation. I’m overwhelmed by the way my heart has grasped onto these two lines.

I feel love for this little being that can’t be more than a little pinprick in size. The way my heart is growing within seconds answers all my questions about how I feel about this.

This is a piece of Grant and me. I’d like to think it’s the best parts of us coming together to bring us a child. I feel empowered knowing that I’m growing life, not just anyone’s, but my child with Grant. Something about that makes me feel like I can soar.

I stare at the test for a few more minutes, snapping a photo to send to Artie.

The moment I text it to him, I immediately feel the vibration of my cell in my hands. I didn’t think he’d be up.

“Hello?” I act completely chill even though I feel my nerves getting the best of me as I pick up this call.

“Don’t ‘hello’ me, missy! You send me a text like that and think it’s chit-chat I’m going for at this hour? No way, no how!” I hear him yawn even though he’s awake enough to chew me out in true Artie fashion.

I start to laugh. “Well, I can’t tell Grant through a text, so you’re my first one to lean on.”

“From the photos you showed me of this Grant and the brief video call I've seen of him, you’re lucky to be carrying his child. He’s a chiseled god from what I saw.” I hear some rustling, and someone, I assume Eugene, whisper-yells, “I thought I was your chiseled god, Art.” Then I hear Artie respond with, “You know it.” I roll my eyes and smile because I love them together.

“Yeah, well, said god is in South America, and I have to find a way to tell him. If I wait until he returns for the holidays, I’ll be a little obvious with the protruding belly.” I smile, just envisioning this baby growing inside me in the months to come.

“So, when are you going to tell him?” Artie’s energy is palpable even through the phone.

“I think I’ll talk to him later today. We have never kept secrets from one another, and he can sniff one out of me pretty quickly. So it’s best I let this one out of the bag, even though I’m pretty early on. I think Becca said the first trimester is the riskiest in miscarriages. But the father of the baby should be told.” I straighten my back, determination coursing through my veins.

I wonder how Grant will react. What will he say? Will he be mad?

That last question makes me shake my head even though no one can see me.

Grant won’t be mad. Something about this entire situation feels serendipitous. We belong together. We’ve been playing this little game, sleeping together any chance we were in the same vicinity. The attraction is there, the friendship is there, and the love is never changing; we are meant to be together, and this baby is a symbol of that.

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