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I slide the key through her door, and it opens.
Walking through her apartment, the smell of vanilla hits me first. Then I look around to find a well-kept, clean apartment.
Bookshelves are stacked from top to bottom, with romance novels and vein plants scattered throughout. Picture frames of her from when she was a kid are displayed, as are more recent photos of her and Tessa, Autumn, and Isla posing together at parties and Hawkeyes games.
I head for the bathroom, not wanting to waste too much time. If I get this done quickly and efficiently, I might earn myself her first call when she needs something fixed again next time.
I walk through the bathroom and turn on the shower faucets. Sure enough, there are only drips coming from the shower head.
I check the bathroom sink and water gushes out without an issue. Then I check under the sink, pulling out the trash to see underneath.
I barely glance at the trash but then do a double-take when something catches my eye. I instantaneously stop, my eyes gluing to the plastic applicator in the waste bin.
Eight little letters jump out at me and my heart thumps hard against my chest.
“Pregnant”
A positive pregnancy test is sitting in Penelope’s trash.
What the fuck?
A dozen questions stream through my mind in a flash.
Penelope’s pregnant?
Is it mine?
Why didn’t she tell me she thought she might be?
Did she take this test all alone?
Do her friends know?… Does Sam know?
Then I think back to her birthday and the lack of protection we used, though she said she was on birth control.
I’ve heard it happens.
Birth control is only 91% effective.
We wouldn’t be the first to get pregnant while on birth control, and I doubt we’ll be the last.
Holy fuck… Penelope’s pregnant.
My panic and concern move through me like an emotional roller coaster in a matter of seconds until I’m up on my feet, and I’ve settled on an emotion that has me wondering where I can find her right now.
I’m fucking happy… and mildly relieved.
A smile stretches across my face. I wish she would have told me right away. I wouldn’t have gone to Chicago last night. I would have come straight home to be here for her.
I need to see her and I need to see her now.
I need to tell her that she can count on me.
No more fuck ups.
I’m going to be the man and the father she needs me to be, even if it’s not mine.
Eighteen years.
