Page 27 of His Perfect Woman

I buried my face in my hands, trying to bury all the bothersome ‘what if’s right along with it. But a chiming noise on my phone alerted me. What the hell is that sound? Not a text. Not an e-mail. I didn't think I’d ever even heard it make that noise before…

I glanced down at the screen and saw the red dot icon, quickly registering it as a notification from the app I used to track my periods. A bold warning scrolled across the screen.

Don’t forget to log the start of your period.

What!? I stared at it with my face all scrunched up in a knot. I didn’t even know the app would do that, but then again I had never given it a chance. I never forgot to log the start of my cycle and...I was never late.

My heart dropped. I was never late...until now.

“Can I get you anything else?” The waitress appeared at my side suddenly, making me jump.

“The check, please.”

I paid my tab as quickly as I could and bolted off of the patio, nearly forgetting my phone and work binder behind on the table. I rushed back over to snatch them up and took off, practically running to the pharmacy around the corner.

For all the time in recent years I had spent dreaming about having a baby, I had somehow neglected certain important things...like figuring out the best pregnancy test brands and when to take them. As I scanned the ridiculous amount of options calling out to me from the store shelves, I was panicking inside over the wine I had the night before. And the mimosas I had at brunch the day before that. Oh, god...I ate sushi a few days ago! Isn’t that a big no-no when you’re pregnant?

My concerns sent my hand shooting out toward the boxes featuring smiling mothers, shoving them all into my basket like they were going permanently out of stock. The more tests the better, right? Then I’d know for certain that whatever the result was...it could be trusted, if twenty-plus tests all said the same thing.

Approaching the counter, I wondered if the pharmacist might be able to calm some of my worries about the alcohol and raw fish. He was a younger guy—tall and scrawny. Honestly, he didn’t look like he knew much about sex, period—much less pregnancy. But I figured he had to have some expertise, given his place of employment.

“Excuse me, sir,” I said sheepishly, dumping my basket of boxes onto the counter. “Do you know if...well, let’s say you were a few weeks pregnant but didn’t know it yet. How many drinks would you have to have to risk giving your baby something like...fetal alcohol syndrome?”

He blinked. “I’m a cashier, lady. Not a doctor.”

“Right. Sure.” I blushed, holding out my credit card.

I spent the next few hours ignoring all of Lucas’s texts. I ignored every text, no matter who it came from, and emails and phone calls, anything else that might pluck me from the vortex of my pregnancy panic.

I sat in the middle of my bathroom floor, surrounded by empty boxes, instruction pamphlets, and all the small sticks I’d peed on. Each one with the same pink or blue plus sign...which I had learned, after reading the same instructions over and over again about a hundred times, meant that I was, in fact...pregnant.

Thankfully, Google assured me that I hadn’t harmed my baby with my light drinking and affinity for sushi in the days leading up to this startling discovery. But all this panic could have been avoided easily if I had just been paying enough attention to take the test in advance or to be more cautious in the days leading up to my missed period.

I thought I was ready and prepared for this whole thing, with or without Lucas, but apparently I was not. All of his moving in talk had distracted me too much. What other important things would he distract me from before it was all said and done?

I kept sucking in deep breaths and blowing them out again slowly. This was what I had wanted...I just didn’t expect it to happen so soon. Nor had I expected my feelings for Lucas to be so complicated.

I wanted to rush out to wherever he was and tell him right then. I imagined the happy news...the embrace...the feeling of his rock-hard, big, strong body swooping me up into his muscular arms...a body that I was nowhere near done with yet. What was I going to do? The sex was just a means to an end. The end had come. But thinking of hugging him alone was enough to send my body shooting off into a hot frenzy of need.

Why did I think getting a positive pregnancy test would somehow seal up the can of worms we had opened?

The mountain of pregnancy tests around me wasn’t helping matters any. I swept them all back into the bag from the pharmacy and tossed the boxes and other papers. It was the first time I had stepped out of my bathroom since I got home, and I was desperate for more ginger ale. At least now I knew my nausea and fatigue had a much larger cause than the stress of this whole stupid arrangement.

Walking towards the kitchen, I found myself stopping in the doorway of my guest room-turned-nursery. The big chest was sitting there in the middle, full of things waiting to get out and be used. I had been dreaming of having a child for years. Smoothing my hands over my stomach, it was hard to believe it was finally happening.

But the nursery didn’t look as hopeful as it once had. Was Lucas right? Should we move in together? No matter how prepared I thought I was, it didn’t stop overwhelming fear from paralyzing me the moment I realized I was late. The feeling had only been getting worse, and all of this was just from little pink lines on a stick of pee!

How would I fare when my stomach started bulging out with a kicking baby? When my water broke? When the baby caught a fever or some other common illness and couldn’t sleep? I tried not to cry as the biggest question made its way to the front of my mind...Why did I ever think I could actually do this on my own!?

My phone started dinging again, but this time Lucas was calling instead of texting. I couldn’t avoid him forever. He would have to know eventually. Maybe not quite yet...but soon.

“Hello?”

“There you are. I’ve been trying to reach you all day. You alright?”

“Fine!” I lied.

“Okay. Do you have dinner plans? I was hoping to steal you away for the evening.”

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