Page 93 of Vegas Daddies

“Christ, Tam.” I almost choke on the chicken. “I don’t think it works like that.” I feel a blush heat my cheeks.

“She’s flustered! Look at her.” Tammy’s smile widens.

“Okay.” Rachel stands from the table. “Come on. Let’s find you a pregnancy test. ClearBlue, where are you?”

“You wanna announce it for China to hear too?” I yank Rachel’s hand and sit her back down, running a hand through my hair. “I dunno what to do, guys.”

Tammy frowns. “What do you mean?”

“They’d all make great fathers, all three of them—that’s not the issue.”

“Then what is?”

I look over my shoulder. “Something beginning with B and ending in A.”

“Good point.” Rachel scowls.

“It’s risky. I’m constantly on guard as it is. What the hell will it be like if I birth a child into the world? That’s four pairs of shoulders I’ll have to keep looking over.”

Rachel rises from her seat again. “We’ll cross that bridge when and if we come to it.” She closes my box of chicken and drops it into my bag. “Finish eating later. Let’s go get you a test.”

I kinda wish the CVS was at the other end of the mall, not directly opposite the Chick-fil-A. I’ve never been good at ripping off the Band-Aid and getting on with it. Procrastination is in my nature. It’s why I aced my exams—the knowledge was fresh in my head from revising the day before. Sometimes, leaving things until the last minute pays off. It allows you to be content for as long as possible. I don’t wanna see that nasty wound. I want it buried underneath a Band-Aid so I can forget about it and enjoy my life.

Tammy and Rachel purchase the test, and I anxiously wait outside, bending back my fingernails to give my mind something to focus on. A cold sweat greases my palms, and my pulse drums in my ears, overtaking the sound of echoed chatter ringing through the mall.

I walk to the bathroom with no recollection of doing so.

Slide the lock across the closed stall door with chattering teeth.

I want to take off.

A flight to Bali sounds appealing.

Instead, I remove the packaging and pee on the stick.

“Is it coming out?”

“What the fuck, Tam?”

“What?! Sometimes when you’re nervous, it doesn’t!”

I slide open the door and run to the sink, anchoring my hands there to stabilize myself for a moment. The test rests next to me on the counter. I can’t even look at it.

Tammy sets a two-minute timer on her phone.

I want each second to stretch out for as long as possible.

“Jeez, Ali. Are you okay?”

Rachel curls an arm around me. “Does she look okay?”

“I definitely don’t feel okay.”

“Tell us what’s running through your head,” Tammy instructs.

I lean back into the sink. “I was supposed to be a nurse practitioner before I got pregnant. I was supposed to have my own place, somewhere nearby, like Henderson or North Las Vegas, somewhere close to my father before I started thinking about children.”

Rachel’s eyes soften. “And let me guess? Levi would be the father?”

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