Page 121 of Lavender Lake
Was stress the reason my period was late?
It had been a hell of a homecoming.
But the bloating and my pants no longer fitting comfortably . . .
I had no other symptoms that I might be pregnant.
Still . . .
A niggle of worry took root. There was no way I would be able to go to sleep. Not now.
But what the hell was I supposed to do? Sneak out of my house and pray the hot bull rider in the room next to me didn’t wake up?
It was 3:04 a.m. when I pulled into a drug store in Coeur d’Alene. It was 3:10 a.m. when I bought a pregnancy test. It was 3:14 a.m. when I peed on said pregnancy test in the drug store bathroom. It was 3:19 am when a big, fat, pink plus sign showed up on the pregnancy test.
A knock sounded on the door.
“Be out in a second!” I called back.
I hastily shoved the pregnancy test back into the box and into my purse. I quickly washed my hands, and then I opened the door and came face to face with the middle-aged store clerk in her blue vest and a look of worry on her face.
“It’s all yours,” I said, gesturing to the door.
“Oh, I don’t need the restroom. I just wanted to check on you.”
I promptly burst into tears.
“Aww, yeah, I thought that might be the case,” she said.
And even though she was a complete stranger, she pulled me into a maternal embrace and patted my back.
“It’ll be okay,” she crooned.
I stepped back and wiped the tears from my eyes. “You’re really nice.”
She smiled. “Do you want a cookie? I’ve got some up front.”
Nodding, I followed her toward the register.
“How did you know I was—that I’m . . .”
I couldn’t even finish the sentence because my brain still hadn’t wrapped around the truth.
“We don’t get a lot of foot traffic this time of night. And a young woman coming in looking a bit frazzled, wearing two different shoes”—she pointed to my feet—“asking for a pregnancy test—it was an easy bet.”
I looked down at my feet. One clog and one of Muddy’s loafers. “Would you look at that.”
“Sit,” she said, gesturing to the chair behind the counter. “I need to stretch my legs a bit.”
“So, a cookie?” I asked hopefully.
She smiled. “There’s a bag next to the register.”
I found the plastic bag of cookies and took one.
“Pumpkin chocolate chip,” she explained. “Secret family recipe.”
I bit into it and immediately felt better. “This is so good.”
