Page 115 of Resisting the Running Back

My first thought is that apparently two weeks is long enough for a positive. I wonder if I could’ve tested last week. I wonder if I could’ve known sooner—known when he was here so we could be together to learn this news.

Instead, I feel like I’m keeping a secret from him the very second I know the truth.

It’s early. Things could still happen.

But right at this very second, I’m growing Miller Banks’s baby in my stomach, and that’s a thought I never in a million years thought I’d have.

How will this change my life? How will this change things between us? How do I even tell him about this when he’s been pretty upfront about how he feels about having kids?

I slide off the edge of the tub and onto the floor as I start to cry.

What if he resents the baby or resentsmeor resents our relationship? What if he feels forced into a future he never wanted because of an accident?

How do we get past those very real and very scary issues?

I have none of the answers, but I’m starting to panic as I continue to stare at the single word on that screen.

My chest squeezes tightly as I start to pant.

My stomach rolls over.

I think I’m going to be sick.

I run to the toilet and heave, but nothing comes out. I haven’t eaten yet. I don’t know if I can ever eat again. I have to eat. I’m growing a baby.

I can hardly take care of myself some days. I can’t cook. How do I feed a baby?

How do I take care of another human?

How do I do any of this…alone?

I sit on the bathroom floor for a few seconds as I gasp and try to heave in gulps of air.

I finally draw in a long, steady breath.

I need to call Miller. I know I can’t tell him this over the phone, but I need to hear his voice. I need him to tell me everything’s going to be okay even though he has no idea what’s going on.

I press his contact, and the phone rings. And rings. And rings. It goes to voicemail after six rings.

I don’t bother with a message. It’s probably better he didn’t answer. It’s better he doesn’t hear the panic in my voice right now. I need to calm down.

A cup of coffee will help.

I run down to the kitchen, start the Keurig, and breathe in the heavenly scent of a fresh cup of coffee.

I tip the mug to my lips, and that’s when I freeze.

Fuck. I never got the answer to the question of whether it’s okay to drink coffee when I’m pregnant.

It’s one more thing I have no idea about. One more thing I may potentially have to sacrifice. One more thing that makes me feel helpless, clueless, and overwhelmed.

I need to make an appointment to see a doctor.

I need to research.

I have a book releasing in three days.

Oh, God. I think I’m going to throw up.

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