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“Oh, I heard the stomach flu is going around.” AJ giggles. “Or maybe you’re pregnant.”
West and I both laugh and then exchange a wide-eyed glance. Could I be pregnant? Has it even been long enough? Lord knows I don’t know much about how pregnancy works. Literally all of my maternal knowledge is from movies, though something tells me they’re probably not all that accurate.
“Ha,” I offer weakly, “funny.”
Outside, we part ways after AJ makes me promise that we’ll catch up, just the two of us, sometime this week. In the car, West voices exactly what I’m thinking. “Are you…do you think you could be?”
I shake my head and whisper, “I really don’t know.”
“Have you missed your period?” he asks.
I rack my brain, trying to recall the last time I had my cycle. My eyes just about bug out of my head when I come up blank. “Maybe?”
“Maybe?”
“I was on birth control to help me regulate it; without it, my body kind of just does what it wants.”
“Maybe we should buy a test?”
“Yeah, okay.” We get about a quarter mile down the road when my nausea returns full force. “Actually, can we just go home?” I ask, trying like hell to keep the contents of my stomach where they belong.
West looks my way. “You okay?”
I shake my head, not trusting my body enough to open my mouth.
“Home it is, then.”
For the remainder of the drive, he takes great care to avoid any bumps and takes the curves well below the speed limit to avoid jostling me. His tenderness and care, no lie, have me falling a little harder—oh, who am I kidding? I’m already sunk.
Chapter Thirty-One
West
The very idea that Stacia could be pregnant—that she could have my baby growing inside of her—kept me up all night. Well, that, coupled with my obsessive need to watch over her and make sure she was okay.
She was definitely a little green around the gills last night, but after another glass of water, a back rub, and some tossing and turning, she was able to settle into a fitful sleep.
It’s half-past six now, and I’m stirring with this restless energy. I’m equal parts excited and anxious. I want so badly for her to be pregnant—and not just for the trust. Sure, that’s where this all started, but it’s more than that now.
My feelings for her have morphed and grown into something colossal. Suddenly, she’s more than my best friend. She’s my future. I want her by my side as not just my baby mama, but my everything.
I watch her sleep for a few more minutes before I slip out of the bed and dress in a pair of athletic shorts and a hoodie. I leave a note on the pillow in case she wakes before I return, but judging from the cute little snores coming from her, she’s going to be out for a while.
I almost feel guilty leaving her here, but this is something I want to do for her. Hell, I’d do anything—everything—for her, if she’d let me. But at the same time, I’m glad she won’t. Her fire…her tenacity are part of what makes her so damn sexy.
The drive to the lone twenty-four-hour drugstore Cottonwood has is quick at this early hour. I think I only pass one other vehicle the entire way here.
Inside, I quickly locate the aisle I need, taken aback by the staggering amount of options on the shelves before me. Box after box in varying colors lie before me. Some boast early results while others claim superior accuracy. Some are digital and some even estimate how many weeks you are. Why do I have to choose which thing I want? Why can’t they just do it all in one fell swoop?
“Jesus Christ,” I groan before tossing one of each into my basket and heading to the checkout.
The cashier, a sweet-looking older woman, gives me an inquisitive look. I pay and thank her before making a mad dash to my car. As I slide behind the wheel, I can’t help but laugh at myself. I’m a twenty-four-year-old man, and I just ran out of that store like a teen who stole a pack of condoms on a dare.
On the way home, I make a quick detour by Stacia’s favorite little breakfast spot and pick up two orders of French toast.
At the house, I take great care to arrange our meals on the island. I also make a nice little pyramid with the pregnancy tests. Appraising my work, I decide something’s missing. I dart back outside and grab a bloom from one of my azalea bushes and stick it in a shallow bowl in front of my box display.
Satisfied with my work, I head back to the bedroom to wake her.
In my absence, Stacia’s wrapped herself in the covers so she looks like a human burrito. Which is just so…her. The only way to keep her from hogging the bed is to cuddle her all night. Otherwise, she will spread out and take up every inch—learned that the hard way.
