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"Look, that stuff I said . . . I was just looking out for you. You know that, right?"
"Leave it in the apartment, Joel. That's where I left it." I hold out my fist, waiting for him to meet mine. "Brothers ’til the end?"
He bumps his against mine. "And even then."
I start to walk off, halting once more. He hasn't moved an inch. "Do me a favor?"
"What's that, B?"
"Don't fuck her. Not this one. It's a shitty request since she isn't mine to have, but I'm asking."
He holds up his hands to stop me. "I hadn't even thought about it. Whether you admit it to yourself or not, you claimed her. That night I was just proving it to you so you'd see it. I'd never touch your girl, B. You know better."
I nod, before walking once more, boarding pass in hand. The second that plane lifts off the ground I'll be leaving behind the best fucking week of my life and the girl that makes me think twice. For once, choosing responsibility pisses me off.
Chapter Twenty
Tynleigh
My alarm sounds, waking me up, and alerting me that it's time to get back to the real world. I take a deep breath, my arm instantly searching out the other side of the bed. It's empty, just as I knew it would be. My eyes slowly open, taking in the room around me that I've called home for a while now. Only this time, it seems lonelier than it ever has in the past.
I sit up, the sheet falling to my waist, before prying myself out of bed and walking to my bathroom, ready to just rip the Band-Aid off and start anew. I quickly brush my teeth, figuring out the day in my head, before returning my toothbrush to the holder and wiping my mouth on the hand towel just beside it. I open my cabinet, grabbing my old birth control pack and my new one that's already been filled and ready to go.
I open the small paisley pouch I bought forever ago to hold my birth control, giving me more privacy if I ever need to take it with me somewhere. I pull out the old pack of multicolored pills, all but a few popped out of the slot housing them, preparing to replace it with the new as I do every month. My eyes bulge as I take in the contents of the pack. There are way too many pills left, and a color present not reflecting the week worth of sugar pills that I always skip. "Fuck! No. No. No. How the hell did I mess this up? I've been on fucking birth control for years, taking it religiously, same time every day, and never once gotten off on the weeks. Dammit, I don't need this right now."
I toss both packs in the sink and run to my purse, digging out my planner and scouring the pages for my last cycle, counting forward. There has to be some mistake, but untaken pills can't possibly lie. It's not quite time for my period yet, but the days prove I fucked up. I was supposed to be on my sugar pill this week. I pull at my hair, trying to think back on where I got messed up. "This is bad. This is really, really bad," I chant.
It had to have been me getting things ready at work to take off for Saxton and Kambry's visit. It's the only logical explanation for my irresponsible behavior that has never happened since I started taking the pill. I was working late every day, staring at my computer screen for countless hours, and even working from my laptop at home until falling asleep. I was surviving off coffee and bagels for morning energy the week before he came, ensuring I could be out of the office without losing my job, except to keep check on emails and last minute things that needed attention.
"Breathe, Tynleigh, just fucking breathe." I read so many articles stating that the longer you're on it, the longer you have to be off of it for the average person to get pregnant. I've been on it since high school; that should at least give me a weeklong grace period if this never happens again. Right? Right . . . My mom may have been conservative, but naive she wasn't. She always said she could live with the decision to keep us protected versus having to raise a grandbaby before she was ready. Birth control is private, an unplanned pregnancy is very much public.
I take the pen from the spiral of my planner, making a huge note on today's square.
GO TO PHARMACY AND GET PLAN B!!!!!!
I've screwed myself from the beginning, but I have to have faith that my dependability on taking them at the same time daily for years has paid off. I can’t do anything about the beginning of the week, but I can do something about the last day or so.
I close my planner and toss it back into my purse. Once I take it I'll feel so much better. I don't need this stress right now, coming off of a vacation. One day at a time. I'll start my period soon and start my new pack and this will be something I'll nervously laugh about later to remind me to never do it again. Maybe I should finally switch to a different kind of birth control next time I see my Gynecologist: something with less human error. I've never changed because the pill has always worked for me, but clearly even the most paranoid and careful person can fuck up from time to time. And once something has happened once, well, there are no guarantees it'll never happen again. Next thing I know I'll turn around and it'll be some fucked up reason like an antibiotic counteracting it. No thank you. Not going to happen. I'm the one psychotic person that has read the package insert front to back to avoid error, and here I am, a week behind . . .
Shower. Coffee. Get lost in work.
That is what I need for the rest of the day, starting with that shower.
Chapter Twenty-One
Tynleigh
Three weeks later . . .
"Did you take a home pregnancy test?" I glance at the lab technician wrapping my upper arm in a rubber band, preparing to draw my blood. I’m scared out of my mind, my heel lightly tapping against the tile floor from my leg shaking.
"No. I've never been late before. I've always been blessed with a twenty-eight day cycle, on the day, never longer. My boobs feel like someone has used them as a punching bag, yet I don't have the memory of rough sex or an orgasm to make the pain worthwhile. Suddenly I loathe the smell of my best friend, coffee, and the second my feet hit the ground at sunrise the toilet becomes an attractive thing. I haven't had to tango with it yet, but I feel shortly I'll be hugging it like I'm going to lose it. My love for food has turned against me. I may have no experience in this department, but even I'm not stupid. Either my mind is seriously playing one hell of an April Fools’ joke on me in September, or I'm pregnant, or hallucinating from stress one. None of the above sounds any better than the other. I was too scared to take one. I just figured it would be better to get it over with. Urine can be deceiving. Blood doesn't lie. Today you'll be my best friend or my worst enemy. Choose your blood cells wisely."
She smiles at me, but it's more of a sad smile and not one that reaches her eyes. She looks about my age; that's probably why I'm rambling my shit off to a perfect stranger. I've never had much modesty anyway. Maybe getting it out is best. I'll never see her again. I've been left alone with this since I discovered I missed a week of pills. "In my job I usually am, regardless of who is sitting in this chair, and which outcome they're going for. I take it this wasn't planned? Did you have unprotected sex?"
"Oh, how do I describe the bastard that did this to me? We met, he had this wickedly sexy smile, deep green eyes that pull you in, an asshole personality that makes your girly bits foam at the mouth and a body that lures you to his den. We ended up in the bed. I thought he wore a condom, but there was too much alcohol present to be sure. Then when we figured out we had amutual friendhe pulled out. I was on birth control. The middle is a little hazy, but at the time I didn't know I completely fucked up my pills. Then at the end after he went back to California I took Plan B." My eyes gloss over into a visual blur as the laugh escapes. "Now here I am, hoping and praying that you're going to tell me it's a false alarm and I'm a hypochondriac. I'd gladly take that answer, because what are the fucking odds that one week of missed pills can get you pregnantandPlan B fails. This has to be Mother Nature playing a joke."
In all of my bitching and whining I missed that she already drew the blood and is putting a Band-Aid over the cotton ball at the puncture site, tossing the needle in the sharps container. "Okay, sweetness, back to the lobby you go and the nurse will come get you in about twenty minutes." I stand and she pulls me in for a hug, whispering in my ear. "I'm not really supposed to question a patient so I've already asked too much and co-workers are around, but I felt you needed this. We've all had that scare. I hope the outcome is in your favor."
