Page 6 of There Are No Words

Four.

It’s okay. It’s okay. Because I was not pregnant.

Three.

I was not pregnant.

Two.

Not pregnant.

One.

Ohmigod, what if I was?

I stood up and didn’t want to touch it for fear I’d do something to alter the results, so I wrapped my hands behind my back as I bent down to get a good look at it on the countertop.

Vision blurring, I blinked rapidly. It was the nerves. I was getting all worked up for nothing. Remember, I was not pregnant.

Waiting for my vision to clear, I took a deep breath and looked heavenward. “Mom,” I said, praying she was watching over me and that she could hear me, “please let it be that I’m not pregnant.”

I looked down, the chant still on repeat in my head—I’m not pregnant. I’m not pregnant. I’m not pregnant.

I was pregnant.

Great, so my chant was all for nothing.

There it was as clear as day.

How could it be?

I studied it again.

Yep, I was definitely pregnant.

Fumbling, I reached for the box and pulled out the instructions. Pee on stick, wait, and the results—two options.

I grabbed the stick, wielding it in my hand like it was a sword, and I was a knight. I opened my eyes wide and compared the results to the paper.

Still pregnant.

I groaned. “Thanks for nothing, Mom.” I took the box and shoved it into the wastebasket. Right on top of it went the stick. The gloating, giving-nothing-but-bad-news stick.

I washed my hands and opened the door to find my sisters in the kitchen, sitting around Maria’s island, talking, laughing, eating brunch.

I looked around at each one of them in turn. Perla, the youngest of us all, entered into a marriage of convenience with her now-real husband, Frankie Agro, and she wasn’t pregnant. Bianca, the second youngest, was dating Knox Rhodes, and they were well on their way to a proposal, I was sure of it, but she wasn’t pregnant. And then there was Maria. She had her five-year-old daughter—our Peanut—Isabella. She also had Dom, but let’s be honest, I really didn’t know what else to say there, so. . . bottom line. . . Maria also wasn’t pregnant. And when she had been, the circumstances had been very different.

So that just left me. I cursed myself for having gone to that pub and giving into my attraction to Brady. He should’ve denied me. He should’ve demanded I left his office at once. Then again, he’d wanted to be inside me just as badly as I’d wanted him there. I’d seen how badly he’d wanted it.

Game face on, I found a seat and took a bagel. I opened the chive onion cream cheese and scooped a large helping into my dish, hoping the savory food would bring me all the comfort I needed.

“You okay?” Maria asked, reading me like a book.

“Great, thanks. So what’d I miss?” I asked and let my sisters bring me up to speed.

* * *

Brunch was almost over, so I could go home where I’d have to analyze my thoughts.

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