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Once my stomach settles, I muster the resolve to venture to the drugstore in search of answers. As I wander the aisles, my mind swirls with uncertainty, pondering which pregnancy test to select, each box holding the weight of potential life-altering news.
Is it possible that I'm pregnant? I'm aware of the pill's low failure rate, but could this truly happen to me?
I buy the test, rush home, and now I’m waiting anxiously for the full three minutes to determine my fate. My heart races within my chest, my palms slick with sweat.
Two pink lines appear and my heart plummets into my stomach and I get sick once more. Uncertainty floods my system as I stare at the test again once my stomach calms down. I can’t tell Roman I’m pregnant. Not when he’s dealing with his own demons.
What am I going to do?
Oh my god. What am I going to do?
It’s been nearly a week since I found out I’m carrying Roman’s child. I need to tell him, but I don’t want to add more pressure to him.
Before I freak completely out there’s a knock at my front door. I swing the door open, and Roman’s standing on my front porch. I almost want to cry, but I keep the tears at bay out of fear I might cry out that I’m pregnant, and I don’t want to lay that burden on him.
I study him, my gaze lingering on his features, and I’m struck by how good he looks. There’s a brightness in his eyes that I haven’t seen there in a long time, and as he smiles it nearly knocks the breath out of me.
“Hi, Greer,” he says, barely audible, and I can feel the apprehension in the timbre of his voice.
“Hi,” I peep out.
“Are you okay? You look like you’ve been crying?” Roman leans forward, and I open the door wider, moving aside so he can enter the house.
I sigh. “I’ve had better days.”
Together, Roman and I move through the house with ease, neither of us strangers in the space. Sunlight streams in through the windows, casting warm, golden hues across the walls and illuminating the path before us.
We head to the heart of the home—the kitchen. As we step into the spacious area, Roman leans against the island, crossing his arms over his chest. “Want to tell me about it?” he asks me, and emotion wells up behind my eyes, threatening to spill over in tears.
I shake my head. “Tell me why you’re here,” I say, wondering what’s brought him by today.
Is he going to tell me he’s leaving my life for good?
Have we forever ruined our friendship?
My heart nearly stops in my chest as I hold my breath, waiting for him to speak.
He steps closer, but I keep my guard up. “I’m sorry, Greer,” he starts. “I never meant to hurt you the day I left. I needed time. I needed to not use you as a crutch.”
“A what?” I ask him.
“A crutch. I was using you as a crutch for my anxiety. When I’d have an attack, I counted on you to help me through it.” He shakes his head. “I needed to be able to overcome the anxiety on my own. And I couldn’t do that with you around.”
Now I mirror his stance, crossing my arms over my chest. “You could have told me why you were leaving. I would have understood.”
He shakes his head, black strands of hair falling into his eyes. “I froze. My anxiety was threatening to suffocate me when you told me you loved me.”
Now the tears fall freely. “That’s always something a woman wants to hear.” I have to walk away from him. Now it’s my turn to flee. I rush out of the room, making my way as far away from him as I can.
I make it to my master suite bathroom and lock the door as Roman barrels after me. I breathe heavily as I lean my head against the door.
Breathe.
“Greer,” Roman says as he raps his knuckles lightly against the bathroom door. “I didn’t freeze because you loved me.”
“Why did you freeze?”
“Because I love you.” I hear his forehead tap against the door, at least I think it is, and then when I hear his voice, I know he’s leaning against the door.
