Page 87 of Resisting Isaac
I ignore her, placing a plain black ball cap and cheap sunglass from a nearby stand on the counter as well. “These too,” I tell Agnes.
Elena gapes at me as I pay and then proceed to place the cap on sunglasses on her as we make our way outside.
“What the fu?—”
“Just in case,” I tell her, catching sight of Antonio waiting in a truck out front. We walk briskly in his direction. “Ivy said paparazzi had been spotted in town. She thinks the PR people for the production company might be trying to create buzz around you and Eli.”
I’d laughed when she’d told me. Imagined a middle-aged guy lurking in the bushes with a camera. I’m not laughing now. And if some asshole thinks he’s getting pictures of this woman, who might be carrying my child, without her consent, well, I’ve got some bad news to share with that guy.
She huffs like an angry kitten. “Okay, so what does that have to do with?—"
“You want them seeing you with me? Buying pregnancy tests? Splashing that all over the tabloids before either of us have had time to tell our families or even process what this means?”
“I haven’t even taken one yet,” she mumbles, tugging the ball cap lower.
“Ride back with Antonio and I’ll follow. I’ll meet you atyour cabin and we can see what these tests say. Sound good?”
She looks up at me with dark vulnerable eyes. “At least one of us has a plan.”
I tug the bill of her hat then help her into the cab of Antonio’s truck. I jerk my chin at him in silent thanks, then she’s gone.
There’s a fist in my chest, squeezing my heart like a Hulk hand, but I ignore it. Make my way to my truck and climb inside.
I should be in full freak-the-fuck-out mode.
I keep waiting for it to kick in. Any second now.
But as I speed toward the ranch, there’s hope where fear should be.
And I don’t know what the hell to make of that.
The packagesall said results in two minutes.
Elena has been locked in the bathroom of her cabin for ten.
“Sweetheart,” I sing-song against the door. “You doing okay in there?” I press my palm to the wood of the bathroom door. “Elena?” I call again when I’m met with silence.
“No,” she says on the other side, voice fragile and low. Like a wounded animal.
I lean my forehead against the door.
That’s the first thing she’s said since she disappeared on the other side.
“No, baby? You’re not okay?”
I’m dying out here. But I get it. She needs her space to process whatever the result is.
The door opens slowly so I step back. Her eyes are watery and red-rimmed.
“All three were positive,” she says, eyes downcast.
My heart thuds once. Then again.
That makes it real.
Three.
Not maybe.
