Page 26 of Love You Too

“Please don’t make me regret telling you things. And no, there’s no chance. We used protection.”

I refuse to indulge her ridiculous idea. It’s not what I need or want in my life, so I will just will it away.

She laughs. “So said the last person who got pregnant using protection.” She takes out her phone and scrolls. “Did you get your period? It should have been in the last couple days, today at the latest.”

Another smaller wave of nausea hits me, but this one is supersized, fueled by the idea that Julie could possibly be correct. I sit in one of the yellow swivel chairs around my kitchen table. Itfeels better to be off my feet, but the smell of the coffee Julie brought isn’t making me feel so good. “Would you put that in the fridge? I’ll drink it later.”

Julie takes the cup away and then gets in my face. “Not on your period?”

“No, and how do you know my cycle?” It’s sonotthe most important question when the real issue ishow the heck could this have happened?

She tilts her head as though it’s obvious. “Because I’m a kick-ass assistant, and I can do my job better when I know what’s up with you.” She smiles. “Plus, our cycles sort of synchronized when I started spending fourteen hours in a day with you.”

“You do not work fourteen hours in a day.” Again, unimportant.

“Don’t change the subject. Are you preggers?”

My head spins, my gut churns. I want to tell her she’s crazy, but…is she? “We had sex one time! And we used a condom!”

“Okay, good for you. That’s how half the girls I knew got pregnant in high school.”

“I’m not pregnant,” I insist, mainly because I really don’t want to be pregnant. It’s the very last thing I have time for, not to mention I don’t want any entanglements with Ren. Plus, it really doesn’t seem possible.Right?

“Great. Let’s get you a test kit to be sure, and then we can move on to other reasons you’re currently green.”

“I’m not green.”

“Agree to disagree. Come on, let’s go.” Julie picks up her purse and keys and points toward my front door. I feel like a child being told to put my toys away and go on a field trip to a cemetery.

“Now? I have a lot to get done today. Surely this ridiculous errand can wait. If I am pregnant, there’s nothing I can do about it between now and the time it takes to figure out how to get the inn opened sooner.”

She stops and stares at me. “Seriously? Don’t you want to know?”

“Not particularly. Like I said, knowing isn’t gonna help me get the inn open.”

She walks to my front door and opens it, calling back to me as she returns to her car. “Bring the pile of stuff from Jax. We can go over it in the car. Let’s get you some answers.”

“Is it ready?”I ask from under a pillow I’ve placed over my face. We’re back at my house, exactly twenty-seven minutes after we left here to buy the test.

“It’s been thirteen seconds, so…no.”

My stomach folds on itself with anxiety. I hiccup as my body decides whether to cry or laugh hysterically. “There’s no way. I can’t be pregnant.”

I sneak a look at Julie, who sits resolutely with her lips pressed together. I pull the pillow away and examine the oatmeal-colored boucle, looking at it from all sides. “This is really well made. Maybe we should add couches with this fabric at the foot of the beds in the suites.”

Julie rolls her eyes. “I’m starting to worry that your brain is short-circuiting. Are we talking about fabric now?”

“It’s better than me bugging you every thirteen seconds about how much time has elapsed, isn’t it?” I wait another two seconds before asking, “Is it ready yet?”

Julie sits next to me on the couch and shows me her phone, which has a timer running a countdown. “No. I promise I’m not holding out on you. Do you really think I’d let you sit here and stew if it was ready?”

“I don’t know anything about anything anymore,” I mope, standing up and going to my kitchen to see if I can find one single thing that appeals to me in my refrigerator. “Oh my God,everything either smells like blue cheese or it actually is blue cheese. How is that possible?”

I’m in the process of making gagging noises and throwing out half the contents of my refrigerator when Julie taps me on the shoulder. “Okay, time’s up. Let’s go look.”

She follows me into the bathroom, where the little pink stick sits on the counter. It looks so innocent from a distance, just a disposable piece of plastic with the power to tell me if my life is about to change. Forever.

“Okay, here we go.” I pick it up, prepared to examine it in case the result isn’t clear, but there’s nothing obscure about the pink plus sign that stares back at me in the little window. No room for misinterpretation.

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