Page 135 of Three Pucking Ex's Brothers
I barely get out the words before I start crying. I walk until I find the park, where she meets me. She doesn’t ask questions, not immediately. Instead, she drives as I lean back in the passenger seat, tired and broken-hearted, knowing that once again, I’m alone.
And I only have myself to blame.
26
NORA
3 Weeks Later
I curlup on Abby’s couch, praying that the wave of nausea passes.
I must have caught something from my parents during their visit, which couldn’t have been better timing, honestly.
After my disastrous breakup—real breakup—with Brett and what happened with the boys, I hadn’t realized how much I needed my parents. So I told them about Brett, the best way I could.
I heard through the grapevine gossip chain that Brett had gotten traded to a Canadian team, and not a week after our official disbanding he put the house up for sale.
And I also heard that he completely ghosted his family—including his brothers—but I didn’t feel the need to comment on that.
I know he wasn’t close with them—save for Freddie—but I felt like it was my fault nonetheless. I felt like a damn homewrecker,even though Abby assured me I wasn’t. That Brett was the destroyer of worlds, not me.
Still, I can’t help but feel like everything would be different if I hadn’t gotten out of work early that day all those weeks ago.
I pull the blanket up to my chin. Michael offered to let me stay with him until I found a new place, but being in his house—with the memories of Freddie—felt like salt on a fresh wound.
Not one of the Sterling brothers has reached out to me, though Abby says Tommy comes by the shop every couple of days, asking when I’ll be in.
After I came back to Abby’s, I planned to take a few days to actually recover and process things, but then a few days went by and Michael was home, and Mom and Dad came, and Pam told me to take the time to spend with them. So I did, and now…
Now I’m sick as a damn dog, and I feel like there’s no end in sight. Talk about bad luck.
“You uh…you start your period, yet?” Abby asks casually as she sweeps by to tidy up the coffee table, which is littered with cans of ginger ale and half-open packs of saltines.
“Huh?” I ask, her words hitting me.
“I mean, usually you’re right after me, and I had mine last week.”
I shake my head. “No, why?”
Abby sits next to me, and I notice the box in her hand. It’s a box of pregnancy tests.
My eyes widen as I look at the box, then at her.
“I mean, couldn’t hurt to check, right?” she says.
“I can’t be pregnant,” I say, pushing the box away. “I’m on the pill.”
She gives me a frown. “Yeah, but you have like…six pills left from your last pack.”
“What?” I tense as I look at her.
That can’t be right, I?—
“I counted before I bought the test,” she says and I feel the panic hit me.
“You counted my pills.”
“Call it women’s intuition,” she says, carefully offering me the box. “I might be wrong, but…” She sighs. “Only one way to find out.”
