Page 96 of Tiny's Law

“Hm,” Mom hums with a look of absolute triumph covering her face.

Mom winks at me on her way to the bathroom, leaving me to put two and two together and nearly have a full-out panic attack at the counter while my dad and Tiny’s mom prepare dinner.

I stumble off the stool and end up in Tiny’s office.

This is one room I haven’t had the courage to enter. It’s like a fortress. He has an entire wall made up of monitors with different views of Desert Rose. It’s amazing and scary at the same time.

I enter in a daze, closing the door behind me.

Tiny spins in his chair and smiles wide when he sees it’s me. Opening his arms, he pulls me between his legs, eyeing me curiously when he notices my expression.

“What’s wrong, honey?”

Not feeling the need to beat around the bush, I blurt, “I think my mom thinks I’m pregnant.”

Tiny’s eyes widen, pulling his lip between his teeth. I search his eyes and try to read what he must be thinking.

“Do you think you’re pregnant?”

I shrug. “I have no idea. I don’t know what that feels like.”

“Why does your mom think you’re pregnant?”

I clear my throat and tuck my arms across my chest. “I’m exhausted, like all the time. She said I’m glowing or something.” I wave off that comment and glare at Tiny as he chuckles.

“You always glow to me, but my mom did comment the other day about how shiny and clear your skin was.”

“I’ve been crying a lot.”

“We’ve been through a lot.”

“Yeah, but I’m not a crier.”

“Okay, what else?”

“I haven’t had to buy tampons in a few months.”

Tiny’s brows rise at that. “Months?”

I shrug. “I guess I’ve just been so busy I haven’t even paid attention.”

“When is the last period you remember?”

“I don’t think I’ve had a period the entire time I’ve lived here.”

“Shit.”

I bite my lip, waiting for him to show me how he feels about this revelation. For all we know, it could just be stress. Stress affects periods, right?

“Can you say something?” I whisper.

“I’m waiting for you to tell me if I’m supposed to be happy or not.”

I search his eyes. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” he tugs me closer by the backs of my thighs. I rest my hands against his shoulders. “If you tell me we’re happy about this, I will no doubt express to you how fucking happy the thought of you having my baby makes me.”

“But?”

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