Page 78 of Karma's Kiss

Matthew tucks the ring back into his pocket and rises slowly to his feet, dejected in the wake of my rejection or perhaps—hopefully—as a result of his involvement in this entire charade to begin with. He doesn’t want to be here right now, fighting for a woman he doesn’t love.

“I’ll give you a few days to reconsider,” he says, echoing his mother without meeting my eyes.

“Matthew,come on. This is stupid!” Breaking through the formality of the meeting feels good, so I continue trying to get through to him. “You’re a spineless coward if you let your parents force you to break up with that woman—”

His mom huffs and tugs on his arm, impatiently trying to drag him away from me and my bad influence. “Let’s go, Matthew.”

“You’ll regret it for the rest of your life!” I shout after him as he lets them hurry him through the front door.

As quickly as they arrived, the Masons shuffle back into their shiny black SUV, peel out of their parking spot, and disappear down Main Street. I can imagine the heated conversation between his parents as they fire off insults about me and my mom’s company, absolutely disgusted by my refusal to rejoin their family. I wonder if Matthew’s in the back seat agreeing with them or if he’s silently mulling over what I’ve told him.

I guess if he calls in a few days, I’ll have my answer. For now, all I can do is hope he finds some courage to rebel.Trust fund be damned.

Not even a full second after their car drives out of sight, I’m curving around the dust bunnies and haphazard box piles on my route toward the bathroom, holding my breath until I turn the corner and my gaze zeroes in on the three tests waiting for me on the counter. I’m expecting and desperately hoping to see two pink lines on each, a positive result. Instead, they’re negative, three times over.

Not pregnant.

I pick up each stick, tilting and angling it to try to detect a faint line. Even squinting with the utmost concentration and laser-sharp focus doesn’t bring about a magical change. But I don’t give up; I’m still looking them over when the front door opens. Marge and Queenie laugh about something, and I sweep the tests into the trash can, unspooling a mound of toilet paper and pressing it down on top of the tests—concealing what’s causing hot tears to gather in my eyes. I wash my hands and take a deep breath before emerging from the bathroom.

“How was your lunch?” Queenie asks.

“Uneventful.”

Marge waves a little cardboard box for me. “More stuff got delivered while we were gone.”

“Open it! Open it!” Queenie claps excitedly.

I can’t look at them. “You do it.”

I get to my desk and click-click-click my laptop’s trackpad, willing it to wake up faster. I study the screen as they exclaim over what’s in the box.

“Now that istoo cute. They didn’t have anything like this when I was pregnant with David and Madison.”

“What is it?Oh, a little book with pregnancy milestones,” Marge explains. “Compares the baby to various fruit. How many weeks are you, Madison?”

“Zero,” I spout acerbically under my breath.

My faint response isn’t loud enough to reach them, especially with Marge’s hearing.

“How many’d you say?” Marge asks.

My burst of bravery evades me now. “Uhh, I don’t know.”

“Well it’s real cute. You’ll have to flip through it later.”

Queenie drops it on the corner of my desk, but I don’t look at it. I’m in my own world. Outwardly, I’m smiling, chatting, checking emails, reviewing newly paid invoices. Inwardly, I’m collapsing into myself. My hands shake over my keyboard. What should be a simple adjustment of expectations feels like a blow I can’t process.

Trying to reason with myself doesn’t help.

This wasn’t planned.

It would have been difficult to pull off.

Maybe this is for the best.

It all feels like hollow lies.

I wanted this baby. I wanted to be a mom. I was prepared to do it with or without Sawyer, and the fact that he seemed so eager to step up—excited even—now makes me feel doubly guilty. I should have never said anything to him, to Queenie, to Marge. Because of it, something I could have processed quietly on my own now demands a public announcement.

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