Page 127 of Ordinary Secrets

I enter to find red eyes, pink cheeks, and a bunch of crumpled-up tissues on the nightstand. I want to scoop her into my arms and tell her that everything’s gonna be okay. I don’t, because nothing’s okay. Not while there’s another man’s baby growing inside her.

Silently, I bunch up all the tissues and toss them into the trash. She clutches her violet blanket against her front as if she needs a barrier between us. As if she’s using it to protect herself from me.

I sigh deeply. I didn’t mean to upset her. I’m just hurt. I want to know why I wasn’t enough for her. I’d do anything for her, including drop my band and move to Europe to protect her. I’d spend every last dime I have on making her dream bakery become a reality. I’d even trade my life to save hers if it came down to it.How is that not enough?

I point to the empty side of our bed. “Can I sit?”

She nods, and I settle in.

“I’m sorry for yelling at you,” I say gently.

“I’m sorry for yelling too.”

“I’ve been thinking it over, and if you say you didn’t sleep with someone?—”

“I didn’t.” She says it so resolutely, I almost believe her. Iwantto believe her. I just can’t when there’s evidence inside her that points otherwise.

“Then there’s only one explanation. You’re not pregnant.”

“I’ve had really sore breasts for a week now, and three days ago, I woke up slightly nauseous. That’s why I went to take a test at the doctors. It came back positive, as did the home tests I took.”

“Maybe the tests are wrong. Let’s take another.” How accurate can those tests really be? There’s gotta be a chance they’re wrong, right?

“Okay.” She agrees so quickly, it makes me think the odds are not in my favor.

I jump to my feet. “Great. Let’s go.”

“Now? It’s past three in the morning.” She gives me a look like I’m insane. Maybe I am. Actually, I know I am. I’m in love with an Ordinary. It doesn’t get any crazier than that.

What if, by some miracle, sheiscarrying my child? What if she really is a Zordi and just pretends to be an Ordinary for a reason I can’t comprehend? It’s possible to pretend to not see far. It’s possible to fake shivering. It’s possible to force your body to fall asleep every night.

But then, if she was a Zordi, why wouldn’t she have said something by now? If she was a Zordi and didn’t know it, why wouldn’t she mention that she feels a tingle in her chest whenever she’s around me?

Also, how does she fake the sweat that beads over her forehead whenever we’re under the hot sun? How did she fake passing out from getting roofied by Ordinary drugs? If she was a Zordi, Dex would have had to drug her with z-drugs. If she was a Zordi, she’d have powers, and she’d heal faster than she does.

The more I think about it, the more my anxiety grows. There’s no way in hell that baby is mine, and I don’t care that it’sthree in the morning—I need to know the truth, and I need to know it now.

I head toward the door. “I can’t wait any longer, babe. Let’s go.”

Arella shakes her head and gestures at her red face and messy hair. “Trey, look at me. I’m not in a state to leave the house. How about we do this first thing in the morning?”

I don’t give two fucks what she looks like right now. On her side of the bed, I collapse to my knees with my arms in her lap. “Arella, please. For once, can you just do what I ask? This is not like when I asked you to stay at the restaurant. Or like when I asked you to take me to meet your grandparents. Or to move to Paris with me. Or to accept the new car. You’ve been fighting me on practically everything since the day we met. Can you, please, just give me thisonething?”

I slap a hand over my chest. “Try to see this from my side, okay? I’m an infertile man whose girlfriend just told him she’s pregnant. I want to believe that you didn’t sleep with another man, but can’t you understand that this whole situation is tearing me apart?”

Forty-five minutes later, we step inside a twenty-four-hour superstore that smells of stale chips and sour milk. With Arella in hand, I head straight to the aisle with condoms and pregnancy tests.

“Why are we getting four?” Arella asks when I pull multiple brands of tests off the shelf.

“We need to be sure.”

She scowls at the boxes tucked under my arms. The look on her face tells me I shouldn’t grab another.

I guess four’s enough.“Don’t worry, babe. I’m paying.”

“That’s okay. I can get it.” She reaches for the boxes.

I lean back. “I got it.”

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