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Maybe it’ll be more triumphant once I actually tell him. And maybe it’s good that everyone’s around to watch this. It’s no more than he deserves, right?
“Fuck it,” I mutter, unzipping my bag and yanking out one of the tests. I hold it up to him and quickly rush out the words. “I’m pregnant.”
He blinks at me like I’ve lost my mind, so I slap the test down on the counter, making sure he can see the plus sign too. I’ve had to look at the damn thing for the last week, and it’s kind of satisfying watching his eyes bulge this way. It’s like he can’t believe it. So I ground my metaphorical elbow a little deeper into his ball sack.
“And in case you think that one was a mistake, it’s not.”
Turning my bag upside down, I give it a shake and the rest of the tests tumble out of it, hitting the counter and the floor, bouncing off the stool. One of them does a flip, then skids across the tiles.
He snatches it up, gaping like he’s high on moxy or something.
So I jab a little deeper again. Why not, right? He hurt me. It’s only fair.
“It’s yours, in case that’s not already clear,” I snap.
“How do you know?” He’s still staring at the test, oblivious to my expression… and obviously his words, because who the fuck says that?
“Excuse me?” I narrow my eyes at him while my heartbeat ratchets up a few thousand notches.
“How do you know it’s mine?”
Mikayla hisses and starts shaking her head at him.
I narrow my eyes into a glare. “I know because I met you at a party and thought we had a connection, so I slept with you, and then you said you’d call me.”
He cringes.
“And then I stupidly waited for your fucking phone call! So that’s how I know it’s yours!” My throat starts to swell. My heart is beating so fast right now, I feel like I’m about to pass out.
The urge to flee is overwhelming.
Casey drops the test on the counter, and it clatters against the others. “But we used… we would have used protection. I… I always wrap my dick.”
I sigh, struggling to keep myself upright as I mutter, “Those things don’t always work. It says so on the box.”
“It does?” His voice pitches. “Where? I mean, shouldn’t that be in bold or something?”
All the angry energy I was working off earlier is leaving me. It’s like the volcano had a quick eruption, and now all that’s left is the floating ash—lonely little flakes swirling through the sky, lost and hoping for something to cling to.
But nothing’s going to cling here. He doesn’t want me. He looks about ready to go into cardiac arrest.
I have to go.
I have to leave. Now.
“I know you don’t want this to be your problem,” I mumble. “But Karen thought you should know.”
I can’t help that last sarcastic quip. I need it to get me out the door.
Spinning on my heel, I bolt from the room and finally flee. Like I probably should have done when I first got to the house.
My brain is buzzing as I stumble out the front door, pulling on my coat and trying to run. But I can’t.
I settle for a brisk walk, although I probably look like a tortoise because my body seems to be functioning in slow motion right now.
I’ve done it.
I’ve told him.
