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“Of course. What time?”
“Noon.”
“I’ll see you then.” My bladder is about to burst by the time we get off the phone. I have no problem taking the tests this time. They take five minutes. Five minutes that I spend reasoning with myself while I pace the house like a trapped tiger. I haven’t had a period in years. If the birth control had worn off, surely I would’ve had a period when that happened. You don’t just go from suppressed periods to pregnant. I’m being silly. I’ll be sure to bury these tests in my trashcan so no one will know how ridiculous I am.
The timer on my phone beeps telling me the five minutes are up.
Two plus signs stare at me from the counter.
Not silly. Not ridiculous.
Screwed, that’s what I am. Completely screwed.
The next couple of hours seem to flick by like a page in a book. There are no tears. Maybe I’ve cried out all I’m capable of. There’s only fear and shame. I’m pregnant by my dead fiancé’s twin brother. Who has been charged with his death. Somebody call the soap opera network.
I find myself sitting by the window in my old room with the broken trellis leaned against the wall beside me. “There’s no forgiving me for this one, Den.” I trace the wood with my fingers. “It was supposed to be you. We bought this house so we could raise our kids in the neighborhood where we grew up, where we fell in love.”
The latch on the window is turned to the left and I reach up to click it over to where it stayed most of my life. Unlocking the window makes me feel better. Like I’ve set something right. It’s ridiculous and probably not smart. Dad took the trellis down before selling us the house, but the lattice work that replaced it is scalable.
Maybe this room will be the nursery.
Fucking hell, I’m going to have a baby.
I can’t even think of the options right now. Whether I’ll keep it or not. It’s unreal that a combination of Oliver and me is growing inside me. Part of Alden too, since they shared identical DNA, but that’s probably not a healthy thought.
All I know is that this needs to be kept to myself for now. I can’t burden Oliver with it while he’s already buried in trouble. Until I figure out what I’m going to do, I don’t want anyone knowing. If I decide to terminate, no one will ever know.
Dragging myself out of my childhood bedroom, I wrap the positive tests in toilet paper, toss them into the trash, then take the trash bag to the outdoor can. The unused test is tucked into my drawer.
My phone buzzes with a text.
Tori
Lunch at Cedro’s?
Me
I have to be at Oliver’s to meet with his lawyer at noon. After?
Tori
Works for me. I’ll meet you at Oliver’s.
Okay, I have to get myself together and act normal.
It’s easier said than done but by the time I pull into the lot at Stokes Brothers, I’m focused on Oliver and what the lawyer has to say. He didn’t say why he wanted to meet but I’m guessing it has to do with the psychological test results and decision on competency.
Milo greets me when I step inside and nods back toward the office. “They just went in there. Oliver said to come on back.”
“Thanks.”
Oliver sits at the desk and Lowell sits across from him, opening a briefcase. Lowell glances at me, then looks back to him. “You may want this discussion to be private.”
That’s not promising.
“No,” Oliver says. “Like I said before, any updates you have can also be shared with Ella.”
“Suit yourself.” He pulls a few sheets of paper from his briefcase. “The prosecution has obtained new evidence and I’m not going to mince words here, Mr. Stokes, it doesn’t look good.”
