Page 62 of Sweet Twins For My Brother's Best Friend

“I don’t know, Hannah.” I look around, as though someone will show up with a sign that tells me what to do.

Anxiety crawls up my chest, and I feel overcome by worry for her, the puddle of vomit at our feet a stark reminder of how bad she felt just mere moments before.

“Well, now, if the lady says she’s fine, I’m sure she is,” the farmer responds, running his finger through his mustache. He pinches it at the end and smiles at me.

“I’ll see you guys soon enough. Go ahead and take those vegetables with you.”

“Thank you,” I tell him, unsure, and as Hannah starts to walk away, Lucy anxiously bumping her knees with her nose, the farmer catches my elbow and tells me in a conspiratorial tone, “That’s exactly how we found out my wife was pregnant. Might wanna convince the little lady to take a test.”

“What do you mean?”

“Strong sense of smell. It’s how it starts for a lot of women.” He taps his nose and then his head knowingly and smiles. “Congratulations, Papa.”

“Are you coming?” Hannah calls from down the block.

“Sorry!” I pick up the box from the ground and hurry after her, glancing back at the man. He smiles and taps his nose again.

Chapter Twenty Seven

Hannah

“Why don’t you go lie down, Hannah? I’ll make you some soup or something,” Chris tells me quietly, his hand on my back after he sets down the box of jams.

The veins in his arm ripples as he does, and I bite my lip involuntarily.

“Chris, I’m fine.” I roll my eyes. “Today was supposed to be fun. Let’s just have fun.”

I flop down onto his couch and cross my legs, taking up half the seating with my long legs.

Lucy rests her big head on my knee, and I push her off gently, whispering, “You’re making me look bad.”

“Hannah, that was really scary,” he tells me sincerely, his eyes trained on mine, unmoving.

He stands in the kitchen, his hand on an apron, considering. It’s sweet he’s worried, but I don’t want him to think too hard about it. I want today to remain a fun day if it can still be salvaged.

“Just come sit with me,” I sigh, “Seriously, I feel better now. I probably got too hot or something. It was cramped.”

Chris makes his way to me, a spatula in his hand, though he hadn’t started cooking yet.

He has a queer look on his face, the look of someone realizing something in real time. He hugs me standing up, burying my face into his stomach and running his hand down my hair.

“Hannah,” he mutters, clearing his throat as if moved to tears.

“What?!” I push him off me and lean back into the couch. “Why are you being so weird?”

He gives me a look filled with sincerity and brushes my hair off my face, cradling my cheeks. “Could you be pregnant?”

At first I laugh, a guffaw that coughs out of me.

But the genuine expression on his face catches me off guard.

My vision tunnels and my skin goes cold as I consider his question.

How longhasit been since my period? Have I even had one at all since being with Chris? I don’t think I have.

Anxiety sneaks up on me as I notice the tears springing to his eyes, threatening to spill over.If I am, will he regret this?

“Chris, I don’t think so. I have an IUD and have had it since I was 18. When I went away to school I kind of thought it would be the responsible thing to do. I’ve never ended up needing it for birth control until recently, though. I guess I thought I had mentioned it.”

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