Page 141 of Filthy Truth


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“I don’t. Aidan doesn’t like sharing. Plus, I think it’s a dude thing. God forbid Conor has more square feet than him.”

My lips twitched. “Seriously?”

“I think so. I mean, he didn’t come out and say it was a dick-measuring contest but I read between the lines. Plus…” She gulped. “I think it’s his response to me maybe being pregnant.”

“Maybe? It’s a kind of yes or no situation, Sav.”

“I did some tests.”

I smiled. “How many?”

“Six.”

“Were they all positive?”

“No. Three were positive and three were negative.”

I had to laugh. “Only you would break the laws of false positives, Vana. When are you going to the doctor?”

“I’m not. I don’t want to know. If I know, I’ll worry, and if I worry, I’ll think about how unsuitable I am to be a mom.”

“You’re right. You’re pretty unsuitable.”

“Hey!”

Chuckling, I grabbed her arm and hauled her into a hug. “I’m joking. I’m the most unsuitable mom in the world and Katina’s alive, isn’t she? You don’t have to be technically good at being a mom to be good technically at being a mom.”

“Remind me not to come to you again for support,” she groused, but her arms were like tentacles around me as she pretty much strangled me in her hug. Her goddamn cat was just as bad, winding itself around my feet so I was surrounded.

“Have you told anyone else?”

“No,” she whispered. “I don’t dare. They might get their hopes up and I couldn’t deal with disappointing them.”

“Surprised you told Aidan.”

“He was the one who asked me why I hadn’t gotten my period.”

“You didn’t figure that out yourself?”

“I don’t need to. He keeps better tabs on me than any app—”

I held up a hand. “What you two get up to is on you.”

Though she pouted, I could see the fragile combination of fear, anxiety, and hope in her gaze. Whether she wanted to admit it to herself or not, she was excited.

“Want me to come to the doctor with you?”

She released a shaky breath. “I forgot how good you are in a crisis.”

“This is hardly a crisis, Sav. This is a nice thing. Right?” I patted her arm.

Vana grabbed my hand and squeezed my fingers. “You’re not going to run off again, are you?”

My lips quirked. “If I did, I think Conor would come after me so I wouldn’t be away for long.”

She sighed. “You’re right. He’s the same kind of whacko as you.”

It amused me that she found that reassuring.

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