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“No, dickhead,” I grumble, rolling my eyes. “I can’t look at it.”
“Oh.” A soft chuckle comes from the living room, and in the blink of an eye, Bobby appears at the end of the hallway, all but rushing toward me. He barges past me as he moves into the bathroom, his gaze sweeping high and low before zeroing in on the test on the vanity. He scoops it up eagerly, and I cringe, all too aware that I just peed on that.
He looks at it for a minute, and with every passing second, my nerves get worse. “Fucking hell, Bobby,” I groan. “What does it say?”
“I, uhh . . . don’t know,” he grunts, his face scrunching as he tries to figure it out. “Where are the instructions for this shit?”
I find the piece of paper that came with the box and open it up, groaning at how long it takes. I mean, damn. Why are these instructions bigger than the world map I have pinned to my classroom wall? “Um . . .” I say, scanning the page. “One line; not pregnant. Two lines; pregnant.”
Bobby lets out a breath. “What do you want it to be?” he asks as he turns to face me, his eyes giving nothing away.
I think it over for a moment, wanting to be honest, but I already know my answer, despite how much I’ve denied it. “Positive,” I tell him, even though the idea of carrying Carter’s child makes me want to crumble.
Relief flashes in Bobby’s eyes just as a wide grin splits his face in two. “Congratulations, Momma. We’re having a baby.”
“Are you sure?” I question, my eyes wide as I yank the piss stick out of his hand, ignoring the way he said we’re. Glancing down, I feast my gaze upon the pregnancy test, and sure enough, right there in front of my very eyes are two solid lines, telling me exactly what I’ve been needing to hear.
Hoooooooly shit. Two lines.
I look up at Bobby as a smile slowly starts to cross my face. “I’m pregnant,” I breathe, trying to wrap my head around it before the excitement comes blasting through my veins. “Holy fucking shit. I‘M PREGNANT!”
“Hell, yeah. You are,” Bobby booms, yanking me into his wide chest and lifting me off my feet before spinning us around. “I’m going to be the best fucking uncle ever.”
Laughter overwhelms me and I shove against him. “Yeah, well you can start by putting me down,” I tell him. “This probably isn’t too good for the baby.”
The baby.
“Oh, shit,” Bobby says, dropping me back to my feet with wide eyes. “You’re right. When was the last time you ate? Have you been drinking? I hope you haven’t been eating anything you shouldn’t be.”
“I’m fine,” I tell him. “I’ve been eating clean for the past few weeks and keeping the alcohol to a limit. I haven’t done anything that isn’t safe during pregnancy.”
“Good,” he says, “I’m gonna feed you anyway.”
Bobby all but drags me out of the bathroom and deposits me into the stool at the island counter and I watch as he starts pulling random shit out of his fridge and starts putting lunch together. “Fuck,” he grunts a moment later. “That chick really wore me out.”
I grab an empty drink bottle off the counter and launch it at the big bastard. “Ugh, I don’t want to know,” I tell him.
“Shut up,” he demands. “Over the last six months, I’ve had to listen to all your I love Carter, no I hate Carter. Oh wait, I love him bullshit. I’ve let you ugly cry all over me, and I’ve just checked your fucking pregnancy test for you. Which was covered in piss by the way. So if I want to tell you about the chick I just fucked, you’re going to listen, and you’re going to listen good.”
“Fineee,” I groan, rolling my eyes, hating that he has a point.
“Good. And while you’re at it, put a fucking smile on your face and pretend you’re rooting for me.”
Twisting a fake smile from ear to ear, I beam at the moron. “Oh my God, Bobby! Tell me all about it. I bet she was soaking wet for you. Did you take her raw? Bend her over your fucking bed and take her hard. Did she scream for you? I bet she did. She looked like the kind of bitch that could take it hard.”
Bobby’s face twists with disgust. “You’re right. We can’t do this. I’ll call Jax and tell him about it instead.”
“Thank God,” I say in relief.
Finishing up with the mess of ingredients on the counter, Bobby hands me a plate of . . . I don’t even know what, but the second it’s settled in front of me, my stomach grumbles, and I gobble it down, not realizing just how hungry I was. “So, how do you feel?” he asks.
