Page 55 of Snowbound

CARLY

After the last month and a half that I’ve had, the two-hour drive home from New York feels like spitting distance. Time has melted and merged into one chaotic entity since I got back. I’ve barely had time to rest from my journey, let alone process anything that’s been happening.

Ellen and Nicholas are away at a business meeting this weekend. I know they want me back at their beck and call bright and early on Monday morning, but I’ve decided to take the weekend to relax and recover and go home.

My head is so full of flowers and venues and dresses that I’ve barely had time to think of anything else.

In that way, it’s been a good distraction. Now, as I step through my front door, all the thoughts I’ve been trying not to think about Gabe come flooding back to me: his strong arms, that cheeky smile that I only saw a handful of times but that made me swoon.

I wonder how he is.

I should call him. I should put aside all this petty anxiety I’ve been having and just call as a friend. It’s what friends do, isn’t it?

Before I can follow this line of thought any further, my stomach turns over and I have to rush to the bathroom to be sick.

“Great,” I mutter as I rinse out my mouth and wash my face. “Just great.”

All week I’ve been feeling kind of sick, but I put that down to the stress. This proves I must have a bug or something. Explains why I feel so tired and miserable.

Then a cold chill freezes my blood as I think about Gabe.

No. It can’t be. It would be ridiculous to imagine, right? I’m on birth control.

I know that doesn’t mean it’s impossible, though, and my mind starts racing as I realize that my period’s late.

Between the vomiting, the tiredness, and the amount of sex we had, it’s not completely impossible that I’m pregnant.

Now that I’ve had the thought of it, I’m not going to be able to rest until I know for certain. I throw my bag on the couch, slide my sneakers back on, and walk out to my nearest pharmacy.

This is something I missed in Mullen Falls. Walking. Gabe had to drive me everywhere while I was there. The city is so much more convenient. You can get anything you want, anytime.

But since I’ve been back, it’s lost its shine a little. I put it down to being in New York, where everything is busy and chaotic all the time, but even now, being home, the endless concrete and relentless noise isn’t bringing me that comfortable belonging it always used to.

I grab the first pregnancy test I see in the store and head to the self-service checkout. I’m glad I don’t have to speak to a person, but it doesn’t stop my mind drifting to Gabe, who knows the name of every shopkeeper in town.

I realize that I don’t know the name of a single person in this town. Not at the coffee shop, not at the grocery store, nowhere. I’m completely anonymous. Is that really better than everyone knowing your name?

I head up to my apartment and rip the box open. I know that if I put this off, I’m never going to do it. It’ll be a big terrifying thing hanging over my head until I have my next period and realize that it was all a product of my overactive imagination.

Ellen and Nicholas are giving me enough to stress about without anything else on top. At least if I’m just sick from work, I know how to deal with that.

Tea and a bath. That’s what I’m going to have after this, no matter what this test says. A strong lemon tea and a long, hot bath.

The process of taking a pregnancy test is inelegant, and I spend the next five minutes pacing the floor while waiting for the timer to go off. I wish I had someone else with me. I wish Gabe was here. Or Ruth.

For the first time in years, I think of my high school best friend Jessica and the way we were inseparable. I have no idea what she’s even doing today.

The alarm on my phone goes off, and I jump before rushing back into the bathroom. My steps slow as I approach the sink. I close my eyes, fumbling for the test.

It’s nothing. I’m being dramatic. I’m overthinking things.

I crack open my eyes and almost drop the test in shock.

Two lines. Positive.

These things hardly ever give you a false negative.

I’m pregnant.

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