Page 55 of The Art of Deception

He scrunches his face. “They said I was weird, that I don’t have any friends. I told them Xander was my friend, and they didn’t believe me ’cause he hasn’t come in the car again.”

I clear my throat to try and stop myself from crying in front of him. “Xander is your friend, but you can’t use him as an excuse to try to hurt people, Levi. If those kids are picking on you, you tell a teacher or me. Or Greta. We will help you. There’s never an excuse for violence.”

He picks up his video game controller, turning away from me. “I understand. Don’t throw chairs. It’s bad. Xander is my friend. He will come to see me soon.” He turns the game back on, effectively ending the conversation and making me feel like I want to be physically ill.

Slowly, I stand from the sofa, making my way back over to Greta, who’s watching intently but also sympathetically. I’malmost stumbling as I try to keep my shit together. I can’t let Levi see me fall apart as I rush past Greta. She glances at me like she knows I need a moment before I head straight for the bathroom.

I’m upset.

I’m tired.

I’m run down.

And my stomach’s swirling like there’s a damn tornado going on in there. I open the bathroom door, then close it behind me. Walking to the basin, I turn on the faucet and wash my reddening face. The cold water on my skin soothes the irritation before I glance into the mirror to see my eyes puffing up and turning more bloodshot every second. “Get a grip, Tomi.”

Taking a deep breath, I turn, pulling down my panties to sit on the toilet. As I glance up at the ceiling, a thought pops into my head, and my stomach swirls again violently.

Then panic swarms through me.

When the hell was my last period?

I quickly finish on the toilet as I do the sums in my mind—I’ve definitely missed at least one.

It could be stress.

I’ve been under a lot of it lately.

I wash my hands in the basin then glance at myself in the mirror again. “Tomi, you idiot!”

Drying my hands first, I then rush out of the bathroom into the main room, slide on my shoes, and grab my bag. “Greta, I gotta go to the pharmacy. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

I don’t wait for Greta to reply before I rush out the front door to get into my car. I’m moving about so fast I drop the keys on the concrete. “Goddammit,” I mumble, picking them up, then jump in my car and pull out. I take off like a shower of shit to get to the pharmacy before it closes.

What the hell am I going to do?If I’m pregnant, this is going to change everything.Do I even want a baby?I mean, I’m onlytwenty-five. I didn’t plan for this to happen just yet. Not with a man I’ve fallen for but equally despise.

I pull up at the pharmacy, rush inside, and quickly find the aisle with the tests, but of course, they only have a limited supply. The only one on their shelf at the moment is one which displays a damn smiley face if you’re pregnant. Panic washes over me, but I need to know for sure, either way. So I grab two and run to the cashier.

I can’t even wait to get home to take it—the thought of this kills me.

“Excuse me, do you have a bathroom I could use?” I ask the uninterested clerk.

She points to the other side of the shop, where there’s a small bathroom.

I sigh a breath of relief. “Thank you,” I reply, not that she cares.

Briskly, I walk to the bathroom with my paper bag of pregnancy tests. I open the door and walk in, nerves rattle my entire body. That swirling in my stomach has intensified even more as I make my way to a stall and sit down.

I pull out a test, unwrap it, and stop for a minute to simply take a breath. The next few minutes could dramatically alter the course of my life and Levi’s. I need to take a beat and try to calm myself. Taking in a few long, deep breaths, they come in staggered and shallow. No matter what I do, I’m not calming down.

I need just to do this.

Get it over with.

So, I use the stick and then place it on the toilet roll holder out of my field of sight to try not to think about it for the next three minutes.

They roll by the slowest in the history of time itself.

I’ve never had a longer wait in my life.

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