Page 94 of Resisting the Running Back

She lifts a shoulder. “We should be fine, but it probably wouldn’t hurt to see if we can find some emergency contraception. Do you know much about it?”

I shake my head. “Never had to use it.”

“Neither have I. I don’t know how I feel about it.”

I grab my phone and pull up a website that explains what it does. “Sounds like it prevents ovulation and makes it harder for sperm to reach the egg. It’s best to take it within seventy-two hours.” I glance at the clock. It feels like a timer has started.

“Should we see if they have any at the souvenir shops?” she asks.

“Sure.” We both put our clothes back on, and we take a slow walk toward the shops.

Things feel suddenly awkward between us.

I’veneverfelt awkward with Sophie before, but we’ve also never been here before. This is uncharted for us, and truthfully, I don’t like it.

I’m torn. I’m not sure I want her to take this thing.

But I also don’t know if I want kids.

I want to be responsible for whatever we just did. But a child isn’t like a dog. You can’t just drop it off at boarding when you go on a weeklong cruise. I’ve been watching Lincoln and Jolene at dinner with their brood of three. I’ve caught Asher and Desi with Jacob.

They’re parents now. They were celebrating a night away from kids tonight with a trip to the casino with each other.

They’re exhausted all the time. They can barely fit in time for anything that isn’t their kids when they’re not at work. Is that the life I want?

What happens tousif there’s a kid in the mix? We’ve barely had time to be together. Even if I did decide to eventually have kids, it would be far down the line. Not today—or nine months from today.

We arrive at the shop, and my chest tightens as she finds the pharmacy section. Ibuprofen, acetaminophen, and an assortment of seasickness medications.

Tampons. Condoms. Lube.

She flicks an empty bracket and reads the tag. “Plan B. All out.”

“Let’s ask at the desk,” I suggest, and we head up to the clerk. There’s a line, naturally. We wait patiently…sort of. She’s got her arms folded over her chest. I’m tapping my foot impatiently.

This isn’t us.

I hate this.

It feels like there’s already thisbig thingbetween us.

How much worse would that be with a baby in the picture? There’d be anactualthing between us.

We finally make our way to the front of the line. “Are all of your products on the shelves?” I ask.

“What are you looking for, sir?”

I lean in and whisper, “Plan B.”

“Ah, yes. We’re sold out. Sorry. It’s best to bring it with you if you think you may need it. You can try at the next port.”

I clear my throat, that rock in my chest growing a little bigger. “Thanks.”

We bolt from the store.

Tomorrow is a day at sea. That puts us at nearly forty-eight hours before we can get our hands on anything, and Cassie planned another group excursion, so I’m not even sure we’ll be able to break away to shop. Then we have another day at sea,and by the time we’re back in the US, we’ll be past the seventy-two-hour mark.

Right. So we’ll just wait this one out and see where we land in the next few weeks.

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