Page 81 of Free to Run
I stumble backward and hit the cool glass of the shower. The door reverberates loudly in the silent room.
I don’t have a bug. I’m pregnant with Keene’s baby. I start shaking. This isn’t some happily ever after. This is my life. His life. And I don’t know what part of his life he wants me to have. And now, we’re going to be tied together permanently in some way for the rest of them.
Right now, I wish there was someone, anyone, I could reach out to who could keep this a secret. I love my family, but God, they are a bunch of gossiping biddies. Keene would know sooner than I could manage to tell him.
Telling Keene. Shit. Nausea hits again, and I head to the toilet just in case. “Little one, you’re already a pain in the ass and you’re not even here yet,” I murmur. “Taking after your daddy already?” My hand smooths over my flat stomach. “It’ll be so easy to fall in love with you, just like I did him.”
My heart clenches and tears prick my eyes. God, between trying to figure out when I got pregnant and when I fell in love with the baby’s father, I’m a wreck. It could have been any of the numerous times we’ve laughed and loved, sliding our hands over each other’s warm, slick bodies.
I could have made this baby and fallen for its father at any of those points.
The fact is, I did both. The question is, what do I do?
I hear the garage door go up and know I have mere moments before Keene comes up to check on me. Quickly grabbing the pregnancy test and box, I race into the closet. Opening up my safe, I put everything inside and close the door as I hear Keene come up the stairs.
I walk out as he enters the room.
“Hey, baby. I thought I’d find you downstairs.” Sliding an arm around my waist, he pulls me toward him. “What’s your purse doing up here?”
“I was looking for my pills,” I tell him honestly.
He nods. “I thought of that too. We need to figure out what to do about it after you’re feeling better.”
In eighteen years? Mentally, I’m laughing, but I calmly tell him, “I want to see the doctor this week anyway. I was too weak when I went downstairs. I need to be cleared to run again.” Especially while pregnant. I don’t mention the last part.
He runs a hand through my hair and drops a kiss on my forehead. “Probably not a bad idea, baby.”
Every time Keene calls me baby, I want to shout at him to stop. I want to lean on him to panic. I want to know his reaction, but I need to have the pregnancy confirmed by the doctor before I do anything irrational. It could be a fluke due to being sick and a messed-up cycle. Right?
“Okay, if you’re still feeling shaky, you know what that means.” Keene leans down and sweeps me up in his arms before walking over to the bed.
I groan. Anything but more sacrificed chickens. “Can’t I just have crackers and some other kind of broth?”
He smirks. “If you can keep it down. When I was a kid, the only thing I could handle was chicken soup.”
Of course. Because this child is going to be just like his or her father.
That is, if I’m pregnant.
* * *
A week later,I have no choice but to accept the news.
Dr. Donnelly looks at me kindly. “You have this incredibly blank look on your face, Ali.”
Blank. That’s an apt way to explain how I’m feeling. “How do I tell him I’m pregnant? I took the pill every damn day?” I whisper.
“These things happen.” The OB/GYN pats my hand. “Even if you’re perfect taking the pill, there’s always that small chance it can be ineffective.”
I drop my head back against the exam table. “Let me guess, less than a percent?” My voice is dripping with sarcasm.
Dr. Donnelly laughs. Laughs. I might kill him. “According to the literature, yes. However, the reality is actually closer to nine percent of the time oral birth control fails when used as the only form of contraception.”
“Have you ever thought of freaking saying that as your statistic? Maybe women would be less likely to saying yes to going bareback, then!” I snap at him.
The good doctor chuckles, shaking his head. “Probably because it also requires your partner to have some pretty strong swimmers.”
Keene. My thoughts turn to cutting off his dick. No, I like it too much. I wonder if I can have it bronzed afterward. When I say as much to Dr. Donnelly, he guffaws. “Okay, Lorena Bobbitt. It’s a baby, not the end of the world.”
