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“Iris?” he asks, his voice almost shaky. “What’s going on?”
“Um.”
“Are those pregnancy tests.”
“Yes?” I say.
“Yes, they are, or yes, you think they are?”
“Yes, they are.”
Thorne steps inside, the door shutting behind him. I can’t read his face, but I know that this is not good.
It’s definitely not excitement. It’s not any of the things that I thought a nice guy like Thorne might think, upon seeing a multitude of pregnancy tests near the woman he’s been having wild sex with.
“Oh. I see,” he says.
“Yeah. They are.”
“Are you pregnant?”
I take a deep, deep breath. I haven’t actually said it out loud yet.
“I am.”
He glances up at me. “When did you know?”
I gesture down. “Right now.”
“No. When did you start feeling… pregnant?”
“Well. I didn’t feel pregnant. I felt nothing, except my boobs were a little swollen. Then I missed my period. Then, I missed it by a lot of days. The number one symptom of a missed period is pregnancy. So I got a bunch of tests, to make sure there weren’t any false positives. Then I took two every hour, because your hormone levels can fluctuate through the day, or at least they can with animals. Now it’s been seven hours and fourteen tests and I, um… I’m pregnant.”
The words feel heavier than they should.
Thorne looks down at the tests. He looks up at me.
And he says the absolute last thing that I ever thought he would say in this situation.
“I didn’t know you were seeing other guys,” Thorne says darkly.
My mind stumbles over his words. They’re so outrageous, so out of place, that it honestly takes me a minute to understand what he’s saying. “What?”
“We didn’t talk about it, I guess. But I had kind of assumed you weren’t seeing other guys,” he repeats. His voice sounds deep and brusque. Kind of robotic.
Like he can’t believe it either.
“Thorne. I’m not seeing anyone else,” I say slowly.
He shakes his head. “That’s not possible.”
“Listen. It is possible. I don’t know what your condition is that you can’t have kids, but whatever it is, there was obviously still a chance,” I say, gesturing to the multitude of pregnancy tests that are punctuating this conversation like exclamation marks. “Clearly, you can have kids. Because I’m pregnant.”
“No. It’s impossible,” he says darkly.
“It’s not impossible,” I snap. “I have fourteen tests to prove it, Thorne. They all say the same thing.”
“It’s not mine.”
