Page 14 of Reclaiming Adelaide

“It’s not mine. It’s Monica’s.”

“You expect me to fall for that?”

“Believe what you want.”

He bent down beside me, his elbows resting on his knees, the new heart tattoo visible on his finger. “I want to be there when you take that test in two weeks.”

“Two weeks? I won’t be here…” I hung my head.

Shit.

I’d be out of his life whether he liked it or not.

Besides, what was the significance of two weeks? Was there something else he had in store for me?

His fists clenched. “You will be here. I’ll make sure of it.” He stood, towering over me. “Don’t even think about disappearing. I’ll find you, Adelaide.”

Jake turned on his heel, leaving me on the bathroom floor.

“What are you going to do to me?”

“It’s not what I’m going to do to you. It’s what I’ve already done. I’m warning you,” he pointed his finger at me. “Don’t make things harder than they need to be.”

And with that, he unlocked my bedroom door and walked out.

What had he done? And what would he do if I didn’t stick around?

My mind reeled with every possible terrifying scenario as I squeezed the toothpaste.

Shaking myself free of the imaginary glimpse of my future, I grabbed the pregnancy test in one hand and toothpaste in the other, then shoved them into my pack.

The image with two pink lines stared at me, its advertisement not appealing to me. I looked back at the bathroom, then back at the package.

I could take the test and then be on my way. It was probably just an overabundance of stress that caused the symptoms.

Only one way to find out?

I took the box back into the bathroom and locked the door behind me, taking no chances that he could return and find me in a compromising situation.

Double checking the lock, I sighed with relief, then tore open the box. The small white rectangular plastic test sat on my counter with a results box and this tiny as sin space where I was supposed to put my pee.

How the hell was I supposed to aim for that?I wasn’t a man.

I read over the instructions and found the pipette included that I’d missed.

A cup… I needed a cup. Oh, Lord. This turned out to be more than I’d bargained for.

I dipped down below the cupboard and, with shaking hands, pulled out a roll of paper Dixie cups I used for mouthwash, then picked one with pretty carnations and sat over the toilet, my bladder freezing.

Didn’t the manufacturers understand it wasn’t normal to pee when your hand was in the way? Everything seized up.

After sitting for a good forty seconds, convincing myself this was totally fine, I filled the cup, then put it on the counter and wiped.

My stomach twisted in knots, making the bile rise in my throat. I’d need some anti-anxiety medication after everything was said and done.

“Adelaide,” my mother said from my bathroom door. “Are you in there?”

Shit. “I’ll be right out,” I said, scrambling to hide the evidence. My hand brushed against the cup, and the contents dumped into the sink. “No. No. No.“ I whispered.

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