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There went the rest of her life, all riding on the results of a plastic stick.
She reached for the door handle, but Dirk’s hand shot out, stopping her.
“No, that’s not fair to you. I’ll go and buy the test.” He squeezed her hand, held on another few seconds, as if for his own reassurance. “I’m sorry I snapped at you, Abby. This isn’t easy. Just…just wait here.”
With that, he leapt out of the truck and flew into the store as if he’d been snacking on Santa’s reindeers’ magic corn.
Dirk supposed it was only appropriate that he be surrounded by Christmas hell while he waited on Abby’s sofa to find out if he’d made her pregnant.
That he should be reminded of how he’d taken off her red dress, lain on the floor in front of her fireplace the last time he’d been in her house.
Had that really only been two nights ago?
Everything had seemed so right. But it hadn’t been. Later, when not driven by surging testosterone, he’d been glad his phone had interrupted them. Too bad his phone hadn’t rung the morning they’d had sex.
Abby might be pregnant.
His brain kept telling him the test would be negative. But his heart, his heart had seen the very realistic possibility on her face.
He suspected Abby didn’t need the test to know the results, whether she’d admit as much to herself or not.
Hearing the bathroom door, he glanced up, waiting for her to reappear, to tell him the bad news.
Carrying the slender plastic test, she sat on the sofa beside him and placed the test on the coffee table.
“Well?” he asked, unable to wait another minute without knowing and unable to decipher her expression.
Her cheeks pink, she shrugged. “It’s not been long enough. I came straight out here after doing the test. The instructions said to wait three minutes.”
Three minutes. A hundred and eighty seconds. The difference between knowing and not knowing what the rest of his life entailed.
Knowing he was being a selfish bastard, he took a deep breath and clasped her hand. “Abs, I want you to know that regardless of what this test shows, I’ll be here for you.”
He didn’t know how or what exactly he meant by his comment, but if he’d made her pregnant, he wouldn’t abandon Abby. He might be a heartless bastard, but he’d do the right thing. Whatever the right thing was.
“I know you will.” She sounded on the verge of tears. Her hand trembled and he clasped her fingers more tightly.
“If it’s positive, I’ll do whatever you want.” What would she want? Marriage? An abortion? Child support? To castrate him for being so stupid as to get her pregnant?
“Okay, Dirk. That’s fine.”
Her voice was so flat his gaze lifted to hers. Unshed tears shone there and her lower lip quivered. Her fingers shook. Her whole body shook. He squeezed her hand, hoping to offer reassurance and wishing like hell someone would reassure him.
“Aw, honey, don’t cry.” He’d done this to her. It was his fault they were sitting here, wondering if they’d created a life. If only he’d not instantly been attracted to Abby. If only he’d not let the death of that little girl and her mother get to him. If only he hadn’t found such comfort in Abby’s arms. Sweet solace like none he’d known since Sandra and Shelby’s deaths.
He could “if only” all day to no avail. If onlys wouldn’t help them. Not at this point.
He wiped his finger along Abby’s cheek, catching a runaway teardrop. “It’ll be okay. One way or the other, it will be all right,” he promised, although he wasn’t sure he believed his words.
If Abby was pregnant, nothing would be all right.
She stared at him, opened her mouth, but no words left her tremulous lips.
“I’m sorry, Abs. So sorry.” He leaned over and kissed her, gently, hoping to make the trembling stop, reminding himself that this was what had caused what they currently faced. Still, he wasn’t able to stop.
Her mouth was warm and pliant, accepting his kiss, accepting him despite the fact he didn’t deserve her.
“Oh, Abs, what have I done to you?” he whispered against her lips, threading his fingers into the soft waves of her hair.
