Page 48 of End Game
“That’s what got you in this mess,” she growls, narrowing her eyes. “Oh, no, Finn. I was talking to your sister. Her, um, her kitchen is a mess. Something she was testing out just turned into a shit storm really quick. That’s why I’m here. To help figure out how to clean it up.”
“Nice double entendre, asshole,” I tell her, not bothering to lower my voice.
“Yes, Finn. I will. I’ll call you when I’m done here. Bye.” She swipes the phone off and lets it go sailing across the counter. “You ready for the big reveal?”
“This is not a game.”
“We should make it fun,” she shrugs. “Want to take bets?”
“No, I don’t want totake bets, you lunatic.”
She takes a step back and looks me up and down. “This baby is going to be gorgeous. I mean just beautiful.”
“There is no baby!” I shout, even stomping my feet a little for effect. The slight hold I have on my sanity is fraying at an alarming rate and I am almost unable to find any strands left to hold on to. “I’mnothaving a baby.”
“Let’s take a test and be sure. And then, when you’re not, we’ll drink the champagne I just paid way too much for at the corner store and celebrate.”
“Deal.”
She rustles through the bag and pulls out a test that promises to be simple and to provide accurate results sooner than any other brand. She hands it over.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this.” I march down the hall and into my bathroom and close the door. “I was on the pill,” I yell through the wall, ripping open the package. Laying the back of the box on the counter so I know which marking means what, I yank down my pants and sit down.
“Antibiotics!” she shouts back.
“And he wore a condom!”
“Maybe it had a rip?”
“Can I sue them for that?”
“No,” she giggles.
Taking one deep, heavy breath that feels like my last as a free, sane woman, I jab the stick between my legs and do my business. With each tinkle, I squeeze my eyes harder, like each second of urine stream is another step closer to a life I don’t want. That I can’t imagine. That I hope beyond all hope isn’t really happening to me.
Branch’s handsome face flickers through my mind, and for some unknown reason, I want to kiss him as hard as I want to deck him right in his nine-inch cock.
I clean up, lay the stick on a hand towel, and open the door. Poppy is leaning against the wall.
“Come watch with me. It’ll be like the solar eclipse,” I tell her. “This will happen once in a lifetime. After this experience, I never want to have a baby.”
“I think the eclipse happens more than once,” she points out. “And it looks like this won’t have to happen again because . . . you’re pregnant, Layla.”
The end of that is a whisper, but that’s not why I don’t hear it. I don’t hear the words because I can see it on her face—the way her eyes grow, the corners of her lips softening, the ever-so-slight drop in her shoulders.
“Pop . . .” I fall against the wall, my knees threatening to betray my weight. They shake like I’m ready to come, wobble like I’ve just run five miles which I’ve never done, but this is what I think would happen if I did.
I can barely stand. I can’t think. I can barely even see straight as Poppy lays a hand on my shoulder. Her lips move but I don’t hear her. I’m lost in the last words she said to me.
Focusing on her face is harder than it should be and I pick the little freckle just under her left eye and try to see its shape and color. It’s a blur. Everything is a blur.
A hand goes to my stomach. I try to imagine what’s happening beneath my skin.
I’m pregnant.
I jerk my hand away. Looking at Poppy’s face, I feel the tears before I even realize they’re falling.
“I can’t be pregnant,” I whisper, not even sounding like my voice.
