Lexi made a goofy face at me and whisked away my comment with her hand.

“Speaking of making out. What’s the latest with your love life, Nicole? I feel like we haven’t talked about that in forever,” She sounded a little concerned.

I sighed. “Nothing much. I haven’t told you about this, but I’d taken an aggressive stand on getting back out there after Jason. Apparently so aggressive that I partied a little too hard at that club that has the good dance music and quality tequila and ended up sleeping with Derek.”

Lexi’s face got closer to her phone. “Oh, the stockbroker guy? Um, was that a bad thing?”

“Yep.” I scowled. “I don’t remember much about the evening. I’d had too much to drink. I thought maybe we should get to know each other, see if there was anything there, so we went out a few nights later. Turns out, upon sober inspection, that he’s shallow and arrogant, and we have nothing in common. All he wanted to do was get back in my pants. I’m not that desperate.”

I propped my phone up and took a swig from the wine bottle before I started fiddling with my hair.

“I’m sorry that didn’t work out, but really, you were leaving the city anyway. Maybe you’ll meet Mr. Right when you get to Cooperstown or any of the other places you’ll be touching down in.”

“Nah, don’t worry about me. I’m not really looking. I’d rather focus on my nursing right now.”

“I don’t believe you. You’re doing that complex braiding thing with your hair, which is what you do when you’re stressed,” commented Lexi. She knew me well.

“Am I?” I stopped and looked at my hands as if they’d been acting without my consent.

“Maybe Matt has a friend we can hook you up with,” Lexi said helpfully.

I groaned and covered my face with my hands. “Kill me now.”

“Hey, he has lots of friends in this town,” Lexi started in, but I raised my hand to stop her.

“I’ve got to go. I think my stomach is reacting to the sugar overload from all the cake, extra frosting, and punch. I don’t want to take you to the bathroom with me, so this is goodbye. See you tomorrow afternoon!” I blew her a kiss and hung up.

I wasn’t just trying to end the conversation from its sad direction. I felt queasy. I hurried to the bathroom and stood staring at the toilet. My throat got tight, and I gagged but managed to keep my stomach contents down. I was not the puking type, not even after the rare night of too much alcohol.

Sweat broke out on my forehead, and I closed my eyes and leaned against the wall. Maybe I’d caught a bug or something. I thought back, trying to remember the last time I’d thrown up. I was coming up blank. As a nurse, I was exposed to many things, but I’d had all the shots and built up an immunity to just about everything else.

Me, I had a cast iron stomach. I prided myself on all the spicy food I could eat and all the amusement park rides I could handle.

I wiped the sweat away and slid down the cold tiled wall into a sitting position. I braided my hair again as I thought hard. Almost throwing up was an anomaly for me, and I wanted to get to the bottom of it. If I was sick, I couldn’t start my new job on that note.

I rummaged around in the small box of bathroom drawer items and took my temperature. Totally normal. Could I have eaten something that had spoiled? Entirely possible, given my ability to eat anything, anywhere, anytime. I ticked off everything I had today, and nothing raised any flags. Then I thought about the red wine I’d just been drinking, and my stomach roiled up into my throat again.

“Oh Lord, please don’t let me develop an allergy to red wine,” I pleaded.

But my next thought stopped me cold, and I shivered.

Could I be pregnant?

I sucked in my breath and tried to remember when I’d last had my period. I whipped out my phone to check my calendar, and it became clear to me that I was very late. Crystal clear. I scrambled up, shoved my arms into my coat, and rushed out the door. I didn’t care if I was still in my jammie pants, there was no way I would wait until morning with this huge black question mark dangling in front of my eyes.

I saw the lights of the store down the block still on and headed to it. I pushed the door open and walked determinedly to the back. There, sandwiched between the maxi pads and diapers, were the pregnancy tests. Someone had a sense of humor, and I would have laughed at that if I wasn’t so freaked out.

Back at my apartment, I tore the package open and peed on the stick as per the instructions. I paced, impatient for the minutes to pass so I could check the results.

But when the time was up, I hesitated. What if I was pregnant? What then? What would I do?Hell, Nicole, just read the damn stick, I said to myself in the mirror.

I put my hand over my eyes and glanced through my fingers as if I was watching a horror movie.

There was no mistaking the pink plus sign.

I looked back up at my reflection in the mirror. Clinically, I looked like I was suffering from shock, but personally, I could read the fear in my eyes.

I stood like that for a long time, looking at myself and thinking. I wanted to react in a primal way—throw things, have a tantrum, run away screaming. I wanted my mom to hug me and say everything would be okay. I laughed bitterly at that thought. Like my mom would ever hug me and murmur words of encouragement or endearment in my ear.