* * *
“You’re very quiet. Are you sure you’re okay?” Zane asks as we make our way into the bedroom. I was able to sit through dinner, though I didn’t eat much. Mostly soup and some dumplings. Needless to say, we brought home enough sushi to feed an army.
“Yeah. I’m not sure what came over me,” I say.
“Well, either way, it was nice to come home to Bentley already being in bed. Becca is going to make a good mom someday,” he says with a smile. Then it’s replaced by a look of remorse. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“No, you’re right,” I smile back. “She will make a great mom. But first she’s going to have to find a great man.”
“Too bad we are so rare,” he says, pulling me closer to him.
“Yeah. I’ve been looking for one for ages and still haven’t had any luck,” I joke before giggling. Zane tightens his grip around me and kisses me.
“Maybe I need to show you just how good I am…and how bad…” he says, edging me towards the bed.
But I pull back. “Why don’t you grab a bottle of wine and turn on some music while I freshen up. And then you can show me every side of you…”
“You don’t need to freshen up,” he says, kissing me again. “I like you just like this…”
“I beg to differ,” I say, pulling back again. “Besides. I ruined the romance at the restaurant. I’d like to make up for it now.”
“Right. Wine and music. Got it. But don’t keep me waiting too long,” he says.
“I would never,” I smile before going into the bathroom.
Once I close and lock the door behind me, I let out a breath. My heart is racing.
It’s been a while since I’ve done this. A long while. Honestly, I haven’t had the need. I assumed I wouldn’t. But under the sink, in my hygiene bag with tampons and condoms, are two white sticks.
I pull one out and stare at it. Literally just holding it in my hand brings back a flood of emotions. Hope. Anxiety. Let down. Month after month after month. But unlike those times, when I was riding on hope and nothing else, there have been signs. Signs I didn’t even see because I stopped looking a long time ago.
But now, as I go through the motions, I pass the time by thinking about all those signs and how this time they’re there. The cravings, the aversion to foods. My apparently voluptuous breasts.
Are you wearing a push-up bra?
I’ve also been exhausted. And irritable. But given the fact that there is a baby in the house, that all makes sense.
But so do other things.
“Don’t get your hopes up, Ashlyn,” I whisper to myself. “You know what it feels like when you get your hopes up.”
My phone dings, alarming me that the five minutes is up.
Give it another minute, just for good measure.
“I’m not baking a loaf of bread; it’s either negative or positive.”
Negative.
Negative.
Negative.
The word plays over and over in my head until I finally stand up and grab the stick.
I stare at it, blinking multiple times.
A knock comes to the door, but it sounds muffled. The racing of my own heart is the only thing I can hear.
