Page 74 of Snowed In With The Second Chance Daddy

It’s been forty-five days since your last cycle.

“Forty-five?!” There must be a mistake. I must not have tracked some days. I was traveling, I got all turned around.

Forty-five. I’ve never been that late. I’ve always had a regular period, especially when I’m on birth control.

I fly into one of the stalls and yank my overalls down, the straps clinking against the tile.

Maybe my period’s already started, and I have nothing to panic about.

Nope. My underwear is clean.

It’s possible my birth control is fucking with my cycle. Possible the stress of work and Trevor is throwing things out of whack too.

I stare ahead at the stall door.

It’s also possible that the reason I’m late is because the period isn’t going to come.

Because I could be pregnant.

Shit. I could be pregnant. With Trevor’s baby.

For a second, the stress alleviates. It fuckinglifts. Like this is a good thing.

The idea I could be carrying Trevor’s baby right nowcalms me down. Why? How? An accidental pregnancy should do the exact opposite of call somebody down. That’s reason for peak stress.

Yet, I can’t control it. My heartbeat slows, my face cools, tears start to abate.

I smile.

This is crazy. But I can’t help it.

Don’t get ahead of yourself, Iris. There’s plenty of reasons you could be late. One step at a time.

I can’t do this on my own. But I don’t have any friends close enough to me here in Seattle to help me out.

I pull my overalls back on, walk up to the mirror, and watch myself pull my phone out of my pocket again and dial Red.

It rings. And rings. I wouldn’t be surprised if she doesn’t pick up. We haven’t spoken much since I returned to Seattle. I haven’t been able to handle facing her after the date went so sour.

I didn’t want to explain it and look like a fool, much less disappoint Red and Oliver after they nearly got their wish of Trevor and me working things out again.

Before the phone can go to voicemail, she picks up.

Thank god.

“Violet, hey! What’s up?”

“You have a minute?” My voice croaks.

“Well, I’m at work but… Is everything okay?”

I open my mouth to apologize. To tell her I wish things had been different. To ask for her help. But instead, what comes out is, “I think I’m pregnant.”

* * *

“Are you still there?”I say into the phone as I push open my apartment door.

“I’ve been on the phone with you for an hour, Vie, I’m not going anywhere,” Red says into the phone.

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