Page 102 of Falling for Grace

“Yes. Yes, I will tell Brandon if I’m knocked up with his baby...again,” I add.

“Ok. Ok, sorry, sorry. Just checking.”

Silence.

Blissful silence.

“God, you must want to shit your pants right about now. You're just sitting on the toilet. You’re not shitting, are you?”

“No, Theresa, I’m not shitting myself, but yes I do want to.”

Silence again.

“Are you going to go to Eng—”

“Jesus, Theresa!” I grab open the door and fling it back “Stop. Just stop asking me questions.”

Her phone bleets out an alarm, and we both look down at it like it’s a ticking time bomb. She looks at me, and we both look to the sink in unison.

“I don’t think I can look,” I admit walking past her into the living room.

“You can’t leave it in the sink, we brush our teeth there.” She goes into the bathroom and I know she's looking. I’m now sitting on the sofa, legs tucked up in front of me. She walks in with my glass of wine and sits down on the coffee table in front of me.

“Just like a band-aid, please,” I say, holding the pillow on top of my lap and shoving my face into it on a groan.

“You’re not pregnant.”

I look up at her and she looks at me sympathetically.

“I’m not pregnant,” I repeat, and there’s a strange feeling in my stomach.

It’s... it’s disappointment.

Huh.

“Ok, phew!” I let out a chuckle. “Dodged that bullet, hey?”

Theresa sits and watches my reaction.

“Shall we do dinner?” I stand and walk to the kitchen, immediately busying myself with filling the kettle at the sink with water to boil for the pasta. Theresa is now standing in the living room watching me move around the kitchen.

I’m utterly disappointed, because for a second whilst I was peeing on that stick I thought...

… What if?

What if I am pregnant, what if this is what’s meant to be? What if this is our second chance?

But I’m not.

So let’s pretend that didn’t happen and move on quickly.

To cooking dinner.

“I mean, it’s for the best, right? Brandon hates me, and this would just…it wouldn’t work, right? People like me don’t get second chances, not after what I did to him.”

I go to the stove and stir the bolognese sauce, turning it down to a simmer. Theresa brings over her wine glass and props herself on the stool. She's so quiet.

“Grace.” She looks at me and places the test down on the counter.

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