Page 5 of There Are No Words

I backed out of the spot and started the drive to my sister’s house.

Where I’d pee on the stick.

Where the results would come back, and I’d be surrounded by my three amazing, supportive sisters.

Who I couldn’t breathe a word to about any of this.

I mean, they didn’t know about my one-night stand with Brady.

They didn’t know that I could be pregnant.

And even if I wasn’t pregnant, I didn’t think I was ready for them to learn about my close call.

Not yet.

No, I needed time.

So I’d pee on the stick and shut my mouth. I’d eat brunch and go back to my apartment—that I shared withhim. The sperm shooting master. Suddenly, I had this vision that Brady was a basketball player, and instead of shooting the ball, he excelled at shooting his little swimmers.

It was almost comical. Brady was definitely not a basketball player. Just a sex god.

But this was so not the time for those thoughts.

New idea!“I am not pregnant. I am not pregnant. I am not pregnant,” I chanted.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, and I was sitting in the bathroom, waiting for the last fifteen seconds. Then I’d know. I’d have my answer.

So excuse me, but I kind of didn’t care that I was late and missing part of brunch. I had to hightail it straight to Maria’s bathroom and force out a pee. I just had to.

Thankfully, the bottle of water I had this morning was ready to be expelled.

So now I sat on the top of the toilet seat, waiting, watching the time creep by. It was like a ticking time bomb.

Ten.

I was not pregnant.

Nine.

I was not pregnant.

Eight.

I was not pregnant.

Seven.

I was going to kill Brady.

Six.

How could this happen?

Five.

He wore a frigging condom.

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