Page 138 of Faking It With My Pucking Protector
I finish the dishes, but my mind doesn’t settle.
Something’s coming.
I can feel it in my gut.
After the movie, the boys brush their teeth and collapse into bed without protest. Ava kisses them goodnight, then slips away down the hall with a quiet, “I think I’m going to shower and head to bed early.”
I nod, watching her go. There’s something careful in the way she moves tonight. Like she’s holding herself together with quiet stitches.
Later that evening, after the twins have finally crashed, I head back toward the kitchen. Spotting Ava’s tea cup sitting on the end table, half-finished and forgotten, I figure I’ll clean up the mug for her.
I carry it toward the sink, but as I pass her office, something catches my eye.
The desk lamp glows softly behind the cracked door.
I step in to turn it off.
And that’s when I see it.
A small box, the edge of the label peeking out from beneath a loose stack of papers.
For a second, I just stare.
Pregnancy test.
Unopened.
She bought it, which means she’s thinking about it.
Something shifts in my chest like gravity just tilted sideways. My pulse hammers.
Is she scared? Trying to figure it out alone?
I step back, the sound of my own heartbeat filling the room. And suddenly, it’s not just worry anymore. It’s something bigger.
Much bigger.
Chapter Forty-One
AVA
The morning drags and races at the same time.
I open my laptop, ready to finish donor thank-you emails, but my eyes land on it almost immediately.
The pregnancy test.
Still half-hidden beneath a stack of printouts. Exactly where I left it.
Like if I don’t touch it, it can’t become real.
Not when I can still pretend it’s all just stress. Exhaustion. A thousand tiny things all adding up to something temporary.
I press the heel of my hand to my eyes.
God, I’m tired.
Not the kind of tired that sleep fixes, either. It’s in my bones, woven into the edges of every thought, like I’ve been holding my breath for days.
