Page 15 of Wrong Number. Right Don.
“Nicole…”
I take a sharp breath.
“I—”
And then I laugh.
It’s not a happy laugh. It’s a holy-shit-my-life-is-imploding laugh.
Mia tilts her head, concerned. “You okay?”
“No.” I shake my head. “Not even a little bit.”
She nods slowly. “Yeah. That tracks.”
I press my palms against my face. This isn’t real. It can’t be real. But the test is still sitting on the sink. The two pink lines haven’t disappeared and reality is closing in fast.
Mia stands and guides me to sit on the toilet lid. She crouches in front of me, placing her hands on my knees.
“Hey. Look at me.”
I do. My eyes burn. I don’t know if I’m about to cry or pass out. Maybe both.
Mia squeezes my knees gently. “Breathe.”
I inhale, but it’s shaky.
She nods. “Good. Again.”
I do. It doesn’t help.
“Mia,” I cry, swallowing hard. “What do I do?”
She doesn’t answer right away, which is for the best. I know she doesn’t really have the answer to this problem. Even if she did, nothing she could say would feel right.
“Well first, you process. You take a second to freak out. You let yourself feel whatever you need to feel.”
I press my fingers to my temple. “I don’t even know what I’m feeling.”
“That’s fine.” She shrugs, her voice irritatingly calm. “Let it be messy.”
Messy? This whole situation is a fucking mess. I texted one wrong number and now I’m pregnant with that stranger’s baby. This isn’t who I am.
“Seriously, take the rest of the day off. You’ve got to make some big decisions, and you can’t make them under duress,” she says sympathetically.
“I can’t take the day off, Mia—I have patients,” I protest, hearing the petulance in my own voice. “Besides, I need to work. It will keep me from having a complete meltdown.”
“Fine. Get back to work and try to compartmentalize for now,” she says, unfazed by my foul mood.
I press a hand to my chest, feeling the weight of it all sink in. This is really happening to me. This isn’t a problem I can outthink or outwork. Somehow, some way I have to make a decision that will impact the rest of my life. Mia watches me closely.
“Hey. No matter what happens, I’m here, okay? Whatever you decide, we’ll figure it out together.”
I exhale slowly, allowing myself to believe her.
“Our lunch is almost over,” she says, glancing at her phone. “Since you refuse to play hooky, we’d better get to it.”
I nod because she’s right. I can’t stay in this bathroom hiding from all of my responsibilities. I need to face them all head-on.
