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Or maybe she’s too embarrassed to own up to it because she still thinks I only see her as another one-night stand. I haven’t done anything to help my case in either scenario, since I’ve been too busy feeling sorry for myself to correct her misconceptions, especially the one about me wanting her out of my bed so early the next morning.
I stand there in deep thought until she wordlessly hands me the box so she can grab a bottle of juice from the fridge.
“Loren, not that I mind being here right now, but what happened to the whole ‘I’m a big girl, we don’t have to do this’ spiel you gave me the morning after?”
Is it weird that I’m more focused on figuring out why she wants me around than finding out whether she’s actually pregnant?
She stops chugging and pauses to catch her breath. “I’m not asking you to be here as a potential father, and I’m certainly not trying to trap you. I just need another living, breathing human to help me get through this part, and you’re literally my only option.”
And this time my breath catches in my throat when she mentions the very real possibility of fatherhood in my future, and I start panicking, just a little.
“So, ah, you weren’t on birth control or anything?” I venture, my breath shaky.
She cringes. “No. A certain women’s healthcare professional convinced me that it was better if I let my body do its own thing, especially since I hadn’t been sexually active in a while.”
I curse my dear sister-in-law and her philanthropic fertility-awareness efforts under my breath. “I guess I’d sort of assumed you were.”
“I couldn’t recall you taking any precautions, either. At least, not at first. Though, my memory is still a little hazy.”
“I’m sorry.” I shake my head slowly, trying not to dwell on the implications of my carelessness. “But I always have before, and Jada makes me get tested regularly. So you shouldn’t have to worry about any other positives.”
I’m sure my oversight was a combination of our lowered inhibitions and all those years of built-up sexual tension.
That’s all, right?
“Jada?” Her eyebrows lift.
“My secretary.”
“Right. Well, you can start opening that thing up if you want. I’m just about locked and loaded,” she says before she returns to her hydration efforts, inadvertently making me laugh.
A minute later, I hand her the test stick, directing her on how to conduct her business. She makes a quip about never thinking she’d need my help to pass a test before she scampers off to the back of the house. Then she returns and gingerly places the stick down on the paper towel I’ve laid out for her.
“Now, we wait five minutes for the results,” I announce.
“Okay,” she replies, her voice thick. “Blake, are you scared?”
It’s funny, actually. I’ve been so careful with other women over the years that I never thought I’d find myself in this predicament. I should be freaking out right now. Instead, I think I’m just relieved to be doing this with Loren instead of someone else. And those feelings are too important to unpack at the moment. I need to focus on making sure she’s okay for now.
“Yeah, a little. But what’s done is done, right?” I return. She nods and presses her lips together as her eyes begin to water, and I instinctively pull her in for a hug.
She allows me to hold her for a minute while she sniffles into my chest. “There’s no way I can wait five whole minutes to look at that thing,” she declares, pushing herself back.
I chuckle. “Same.”
So we step forward together just as a second pink line materializes on the test stick. And my entire world changes in a single moment.
“Welp,” she chokes out.
I exhale through my lips as my heartbeat throbs in my ears. “Yep. There it is.”
“There. It. Is.”
“It’s freaking dark as hell too, Reed. I must have gotten you, like,superpregnant,” I blurt out before glancing down at her. She’s wringing her petite hands, so I reach out and grab one of them to stop her. “I’m sorry. Are you okay?”
“Nope,” she replies with extra emphasis on theP, making me smile.
And then I begin moving involuntarily again, turning her body to face mine and lifting her chin before I lean down for a short kiss.
