Page 19 of How to Catch a Rockstar

“P-p-pregnant?” I sputter. “I can’t be pregnant. I would know if I was pregnant.”

She cocks an eyebrow. “You just threw up because of the smell of tuna.”

She’s right. Oh no. Am I pregnant? I can’t wait to have children. I’ve always wanted a family. Ever since… I cut off those thoughts. I have enough going on without digging through my pathetic past.

“I can’t be pregnant.”

“You haven’t had any sex at all in the past months?”

My body heats as I remember the only sex I’ve had in the past six months. Being with Jett was everything I ever imagined it would be and more. The way he touched me as if he cherished me. The way he took care of me afterwards.

Until he snuck out in the morning. My fantasies of him didn’t include him being a bastard.

I shove thoughts of Jett out of my mind. “I always make the man glove up.”

“Gloving up isn’t always enough,” Dani says. “Condoms can break or be expired.”

“Expired?”

“Condoms have expiration dates.”

Shit. Shit. Shit. How long were those condoms in my nightstand? I’m not in the habit of bringing men back to my apartment. In fact, I can’t remember the last time it happened before Jett. Was it years?

“I need to go home.”

I sprint toward the door but Dani shackles my wrist to stop me. “You need to calm down.”

I glare at her. She should know better than to tell a woman to calm down.

“You can’t go busting through the offices appearing stressed. The other PAs will latch onto your behavior as an excuse to try and steal your clients. They’re all gagging to rob you of Cash & the Sinners.”

Damn. I nearly forgot this office is a den of vipers. I’m usually left out of it because I don’t engage in petty gossip but all the other women need is the slightest of excuses to attack me.

I inhale a deep breath and force my body to calm down. It doesn’t work. I’m in full freak out mode but at least I’m not running out of the bathroom screaming.

“Can you tell Mike I’ll be working from home for the rest of the day?”

She drops her hand. “Of course.” She leans close to whisper. “And let me know if there’s anything I can do.”

I hope I don’t need her help. I hope I’m freaking out for no reason.

While I drive home, I try to convince myself I’m overreacting. I’m not the overreacting type but maybe this one time is an exception. I mean come on. What are the chances I finally have sex with the man of my dreams and he impregnates me? This isn’t some cheesy dime store romance novel.

Despite being ninety-five percent certain I’m suffering from some twenty-four-hour stomach flu, I stop at my local pharmacy to buy a pregnancy test.

I blow out a breath as I study the rows and rows of pregnancy tests. They all claim to be the ‘best’ and the ‘most accurate’. Not all of them can be the best.

Normally, I’d thoroughly research my options, but I don’t think the owner of this store will appreciate me sitting down in the aisle for an hour to google the best pregnancy tests. I grab five tests instead. One of them has to be the most accurate.

The elderly cashier giggles when I set my purchases on the counter. “Oh dear, we’ve all been there.”

I can safely say I haven’t been here in my thirty-three years of living. I expected the first time I took a pregnancy test to be with a loving partner. Not freaking out about an accidental pregnancy.

“These are on the house,” she says as she stuffs a few candy bars into the bag with the tests.

I try to smile my thanks but I don’t think I manage when she pats my hand in sympathy.

I arrive home and dump my purchases and bag on the floor before racing to the bedroom. I rip open the nightstand drawer. The entire drawer flies out and clatters to the floor. The contents spill out and I dig through the scarves and hairbands for the box of condoms.

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