Page 104 of Must Have Been Love

That’s not far off from ten percent. Why didn’t I know this?

I click open the webpage, frowning as I read on. The reason for the increased chances on a mini pill – the progestin only pill – is because it has to be taken at the same time every day to be effective. I vaguely remember the doctor telling me that when I was prescribed it.

And yet it’s so obvious that I must have missed a pill. I need to count them. And then count them again. It’s like if I can prove that I’ve taken them this whole thing has to be wrong.

I can’t be pregnant. There’s no way I missed a pill.

I’m the new, in control, reliable Skyler now. She wouldn’t do something like this.

And yet I can still hear Dr. Methi’s voice echoing in my ears.

You’re pregnant.

“We should go inside,” I say to Ayda, looking over at her. She’s distracted again. I thought it was the birds but I realize she keeps looking over my shoulder, not toward the sky.

She stands and I do too. Then she leans toward me and opens her rosebud lips.

“A-mother.” Her voice is raspy, but I hear her all the same. She spoke. Oh my God, she spoke. She said mother. Did she over hear my conversation?

My eyes widen. “What did you say?” I ask her, somewhere between jubilation at hearing her voice and fear of the word she said.

She shakes her head, refusing to say it again and I try to work it out in my mind.

“Ayda, you just spoke,” I whisper.

She says nothing, just looks at me, then over my shoulder again. The fucking birds. “Say it again,” I whisper.

But she doesn’t.

Okay, first things first. I’m going to count those damn pills and then I’m going to call Dr. Methi back. Or call Hudson. They both need to know that Ayda said a word. I start to pick up our plates, layering them on the tray. “Follow me,” I tell her. “We’ll get some ice cream once these are all cleaned up.”

The bar door is open – Maud must be feeling the early summer heat – so I walk through, carrying the tray to the bar. I put it on the counter, taking a deep breath because I swear my head is swimming right now. For a minute I rest my elbows on the wooden bar top and try to inhale to the count of eight, just to get my heart to slow down.

“It’s beautiful, huh?” Maud says, when she finishes serving the only customer at the bar.

“Glorious.” I don’t return her smile. Because I wish it was raining. I wish I hadn’t taken that stupid blood test.

I wish I had taken my pill.

“Want me to clean that up for you?” Maud asks, pointing at the tray. “So you can get back out to Ayda?”

“Ayda’s here,” I say, looking down to my left, where I swear she was standing a moment ago. But there’s nobody there. I look over at the tables, at the jukebox, at the dance floor where we got our groove on earlier. “Where is she?” I say quickly. “She was just here.”

“She wasn’t with you when you walked in,” Maud says.

“Yes she was.” My voice lifts an octave as I look right and left for her. “She was following me. I saw her.” Leaving the tray on the bar, I run back out of the front door onto the deck, looking around the groups of people drinking and laughing, for a little girl with dark hair. But she’s not there.

“Have you seen the little girl I was with?” I ask a group of men at a table nearby. They shake their heads.

“Did you?” I ask a couple who are looking through photographs on her phone.

“I’m sorry, what?” The woman looks up.

“I was here with a little girl,” I say quickly. “I can’t find her. Have you seen her?”

“The little dark haired girl wearing pink?” she asks, and relief immediately washes over me.

“Yes.” I nod quickly. “That’s her.”

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