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I burst through my apartment door with a brown paper bag in one hand and my heart pounding in my ears.
I race to my master bathroom, yanking the box out of the bag and practically ripping the box apart.
Pulling all three tests out, I sit down on the toilet, doing my best to aim as well as I can on each test while leaving enough liquid in my bladder to pee enough on each.
Stacking up a pile of toilet paper and laying it on the countertop, I drop each test on top and check the time on my phone. In three minutes, I’ll know the results.
I stare down at my phone, trying to determine who I’ll call first to tell them the news.
Then I hear someone walking into my bedroom.
I'm instantly startled until I peek out of my bathroom and see Slade heading straight for me.
He stops in his tracks the second he sees I'm here. He looks as surprised as I am.
“I didn't know you'd be here. That was a quick meeting,” he says, continuing towards me.
I quickly eye the pregnancy tests sitting on the counter but there's no way I have enough time to stash them because he's already walking up to me with a small box in his hand and a wrench to reinstall the shower head that he already told me he would install while I was at work.
Damn it.
"I wasn't feeling well, so I came home to lie down," I say, facing him and blocking his entry into the bathroom, not that he won't be able to see over me.
"You're sick?" he lifts his palm up to my forehead to feel how warm I am. "I don’t think you have a fever, but you do look a little pale. Have you eaten anything today?” he says.
“Not much,” I tell him.
“I can go down to the soup place a block away and get you something to eat when I’m done—"
Then, I watch as Slade’s attention catches on the layers of toilet paper and pregnancy tests lying side by side on the counter over my shoulder. There's no other reason for his immediate silence.
"Do you know the results?" he asks, still staring at them from the distance of the doorway.
"No, not yet. I just took them."
I step aside and let him enter. It's too late to hide whatever the results are. We might as well know together now.
He walks in closer and looks down at the results, but I’m too far away to read them from here.
It only takes a minute for him to stare down at all three of them. Finally, he blinks and turns his head back towards the shower, taking the last steps until he pushes back the shower curtain.
His reaction is so much different than his reaction the first time he thought I was pregnant. Why does that instantly disappoint me?
It shouldn’t.
This is closer to the reaction you would expect from a man that you’ve had casual/hate sex with only a couple of times.
“You'll be happy,” he says with his back to me.
He reaches up to unscrew the old shower head.
How can he be sure I’ll be happy with the results?
The anticipation of finally knowing the answer is eating at me so I take a deep breath as I walk into the bathroom and peer over the test.
Three little white applicators share the same result.
Not Pregnant.
