Page 33 of The Billionaire's Most Unexpected Triplets

“GourmetGlobal,” the new receptionist — one that Jack picked out — answers.

“Hi, Michelle. It’s Leah. I have the flu and won’t make it in today. Will you let Jack know?”

She murmurs in response, and I can hear her keyboards clicking as she multitasks. “Gotcha. We’ll see you tomorrow, Leah.”

“What’s with Leah?” a familiar voice asks on Michelle’s end.

My stomach sinks. Nice. I happened to call at the exact moment that Jack is walking past the front desk.

“She’s sick,” Michelle tells him. “She’s out today.”

He scoffs. “Did she drink too much again?”

I grit my teeth. Seriously? No, I didn’t drink too much! I haven’t even had a drink since that night when Taylor and I saw him at the bar.

Except I was also nauseous then.

Which is weird. I don’t drink much, but I should be able to hold down a shot or two.

“Tell him I’ll be in soon,” I say through my still-gritted teeth. “Tomorrow at the latest.”

I hang up, feeling a mix of anger and embarrassment. He’s been trying to paint me as an unreliable employee for weeks now, and it’s starting to work. But I haven’t touched a drop of alcohol since that night.

Maybe I should go see a doctor. Right now, I feel like I can’t even sit in a waiting room, so the first stop is the drugstore.

Grabbing my purse, I head out of my apartment and down the street to the nearest pharmacy. As I wander the aisles, I can’t help but feel like something is off. My body feels different, but in a way that I can’t put my finger on.

I pick up a box of flu medicine and make my way to the counter, swaying slightly. The cashier gives me a concerned look as I fumble with my wallet, struggling to find the right card.

“Are you okay?” she asks, handing me my bag of medicine.

“I’m fine,” I say, trying to sound convincing. But I’m not fine. I’m far from it.

As I make my way out the door, I pass the travel toiletries lined up along the wall. Toothbrushes. Mouthwash. Tampons.

Tampons.

I should pick up some tampons, I realize. My period is due…

I freeze in my tracks, the automatic doors wide open.

My period was due weeks ago.

And it’s never late.

A cold fear washes over me.

“Excuse me,” a woman says in annoyance behind me.

Mumbling something close to an apology, I step to the side. Why would my period be late? Is it because of stress? Or some sort of hormonal imbalance?

Even as I ask myself the questions, I know the truth.

Jack and I used a condom, but I’m not on birth control. If the condom had failed, isn’t it logical that we might not have noticed?

I walk back into the store, feeling like I’m half out of my body. At the family planning aisle, I stare at the rows of pregnancy tests.

My mind is racing. I can’t be pregnant. What will Jack say? Will he think I’m trying to trap him?

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