Page 180 of My Mafia Queen

Her eyes dip.

“What’s that in your hand?”

“Nothing,” I say, hiding the small box.

She makes a clipped gesture in annoyance.

She can’t stand secrets.

Like me.

“Just wait for me,” I say. “I’ll be ready in a moment.”

“I have to, don’t I? The car is waiting. We have to make it to the church on time.”

She’s like a mother now.

“We will. I promise you. They can’t start without me.”

“Tell me about it,” she mumbles, amused, while I move toward the corridor.

My little sister has a mouth on her, it seems.

I move my focus away from her, gather my train, and struggle to swirl around the house before entering the big bathroom next to our bedroom.

It takes a minute to lift all the layers, make sure I’m not peeing on my dress, and use the stick I’ve pulled out of the box.

Chances are I’m right.

I’m late.

I’m moody.

I eat a lot.

Well, the last two happen all the time.

“Come on,” I murmur, staring at the stick while smoothing my skirt.

For one second, I peel my eyes away from the pregnancy stick, and the moment I slide them back, my chest tightens, my mouth opens, and my hand flies to my lips.

“No fucking way,” I say, checking it again.

And again.

Eventually, I shove it into the box and toss the box into a drawer before running out of the bathroom.

Moments later, I sprint down the corridor.

Everybody’s waiting for me.

“Ready?” Tina asks.

“Yes,” I say, heaving.

“Are you all right?” Jen asks, searching my eyes.

“Yes, I am. Can we go, please?”

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