Maverick laughs in reply, deep and amused, like I’ve said something funny when I was being totally serious.
I cap the stick, wrap it in toilet paper, and set it on the counter, not worried in the least because I already know what the outcome is going to be.
Negative. Like the last one.
It’s fine. This is just confirmation. Insurance. Visual peace of mind.
Still . . .
I find myself glancing sideways at Maverick, who’s still leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, sleeves pushed up, looking maddeningly relaxed for someone potentially about to be thrust into surprise fatherhood.Even though I know he’s not.
“What?” I ask, because his eyes haven’t left me and he’s making me nervous.
He shrugs, lips twitching like he knows something I don’t. “You’re cute when you’re pretending not to care.”
“I’m not pretending,” I lie. “Stop staring at me.”
He laughs. I huff, turn to wash my hands. Because now we’re in the waiting portion of this regularly scheduled panic program, and I need to occupy my body before my brain starts sprinting laps around the possibilities.
“It’s going to be negative,” I say aloud, mostly for myself. “I just wanted to be sure.”
“I know.”
I side-eye him. “How can you be certain?”
Maverick shifts his weight against the doorframe, gaze steady. “Because I found the first test.”
I do my best not to grin.Busted!
I knew he knew!
Still, he has the decency to look a little sheepish. “In the guest bathroom trash. Under like ... one crumpled tissue. You’re not exactly covert, Annabelle.”
The towel dangles from my fingertips. “You’ve known this whole time, and you didn’t mention it?”
He nods once, trying hard not to laugh.
“You dick!” I scoff. “You let me take another one?” My voice climbs half an octave as I feign indignancy. “You watched mepee on another sticklike we were discovering this together for the first time?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“I was being supportive. You seemed worried.”
“I was worried,” I admit, shoulders sagging, heat rising in my cheeks. “But not just about the test.”
His teasing expression fades. “Then what?”
I swallow hard, clutching the towel to my chest like a shield. “I felt bad for not telling you sooner. For hiding it. Even though it was just one test, I kept it from you, and that made me feel gross.”
“Hey.” Maverick steps closer, brushing a knuckle down my arm. “You don’t have to feel bad. It’s your body. You get to process things however you need to process them.”
“But we’re in this weird limbo where the world thinks we’re married, and we’re sleeping together, and we’re—whatever we are—and I just ...” I struggle to find the words. “I didn’t want you to find out from the trash can that I’d thought maybe I was pregnant.”
His lips twitch again. “To be fair, the trash can told me very politely.”
I whack him lightly in the stomach with the hand towel. “This is not a joke.”
