Page 67 of Sinful Beauty

As I take out the box and read the instructions, my mind reels. If I’m not pregnant, from here on out, I will keep my pills in my wallet and will always have them with me, and I’ll take them at the same time every single day. I’ll set an alarm on weekends. I will never ever let taking the pill slip again. No, if I’m not pregnant, I’ll make an appointment with the doctor. I’ll pay whatever I need to for an IUD. The hormonal IUD should also help with cramps. That’s what I’ll do. I will never let myself have this scare again.

I pee on the stick, set it on the side of the sink on the wrapper, wash my hands, and wait.

My phone vibrates from beside the cloth reusable bag that I left pooled on the floor by the door. But I don’t have the energy to check it.

It’s Kehlani, I’m sure. I don’t have an answer yet.

Nerves twist with nausea and I curl in on myself. My eyes are dry, but my nerves are rioting.

The phone vibrates again.

Kehlani is texting me. She’s sending me words of encouragement.

Or maybe it’s work. If it’s work, Mr. Peltz might need something. But I can’t do anything until I know.

I push up off the floor, gaze locked on the plastic stick. Two pink lines.

For some indeterminate amount of time, I can’t look anywhere except at the two lines. They are thick and clear. There’s no question. There’s no need to take the other test for confirmation.

A sense of calm washes over me and I close my eyelids. My eyes burn and I dig my nails into my palms. The pain is welcome.

The vibrations pull me out of my stupor. If it’s work, then I need to work.

I leave the test and the wrapper on the sink. Something to be dealt with later.

I reach for my mobile and don’t bother checking my messaging app.

With one press of my finger, there’s a pause, clicks, and then a ringing.

“So?”

“Positive.”

“Okay. Well, now you know. Are you sure you don’t want me to come out?”

I sniffle and wipe my nose with the back of my hand. “No, you don’t need to spend a few grand to come out and check on me. I’m going to be fine.”

In the depths of my soul, I know this is true.

“What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know. I need to sleep. I need to process and…” She can discern the rest. Choices need to be made, but not this second.

There’s a rapping on my door. “Lucia? Are you there?”

Tristan’s voice sucks the oxygen from my lungs and drops the temperature so low water would surely turn to ice.

Chapter25

Tristan

Out of habit, I check the perimeter of the door for a sign she’s left and secured entry with a wire or other device. Of course there’s nothing. This is Lucia. And Emelia said she’s home. But silence greets me.

I pound my fist again. There’s a noise on the stairs behind me, and I turn. Emelia is at the bottom of the stairs, peering up.

“You’re sure she’s home?”

“If she doesn’t want you here, you need to leave.” The old woman’s accent thickly covers her proper English. If I wasn’t Swiss myself, I might have trouble deciphering her, but her stance and gaze clarify a person might have.

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