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Maybe that will stop me from thinking about her so much.
I agonize over what to do for nearly thirty minutes.
And then I just say fuck it.
Chapter Seventeen
Delilah
There'safeelingofdéjà vu that hits me, interrupting the sheer panic.
Because once again, I’m hyperventilating in the bathroom and once again Rena is the one to find me.
Except this time, everything is so much worse.
I'm in the bathroom for about thirty minutes when there’s a knock on the door, louder than my breaths. “Delilah? Are you ok?”
I don’t answer, too focused on breathing through my private hell. I’m trying to control my breaths, fully aware that they’re too fast and furious. But I’m failing at it.
“You’re not dying in there, are you?” Rena asks.
“No,” I croak out, although, honestly, I can’t be too sure.
Turns out that I didn’t lock the stall door, because it opens up and Rena stares down at me with her characteristic frown that occasionally hides care.
“What’s going on?” she asks. “Why are you in here freaking out?”
I shouldn’t tell her. There’s no reason for me to, except I think if I hold it all inside anymore and not talk about it, then I just might explode.
“I’m pregnant.” It explodes from me in a breath. “I’m freaking pregnant! Oh my God.”
Rena’s expression doesn’t change. “So? Isn’t that a good thing? The guy's loaded, and according to Vivi, he’s pretty attractive too.”
“No!” I say, and my voice is despairing. “I mean, yes, he is, but he’s not my boyfriend. Or anything to me. He’s just some guy who’s helping me out.”
“Then how are you pregnant?” Rena sounds genuinely confused, and a harsh laugh chokes out of me.
“It was one time. A stupid one-time mistake that never should have happened.” I think about it, talking more to myself now than her. “And I’ve been doing so well. I’ve been staying away from him, not indulging in any of my fantasies. Just going to work and doing what I have to. I took the morning-after pill too. And now I’m pregnant?”
I meet Rena’s gaze expecting judgment but see sympathy instead.
“The pill isn’t a hundred percent effective,” she says. “Trust me, I should know.”
I know that logically, but no one ever thinks they’ll be the exception. And it’s hard to believe something like that would happen to me on top of everything else.
Why on earth do I have the worst luck in the world?
“Oh God, what am I going to do?”
“Well, first,” Rena says. “You need to get off the floor because I’m pretty sure they don’t clean in here every day and who knows what germs are crawling up your hoohaa.”
She takes me by the wrist of the hand still holding the pregnancy test, and gestures for me to toss it.
I do, in a delayed fashion probably brought on by shock.
“You’re going to take more tests,” she continues in an orderly voice, “That will either confirm or deny that you’re pregnant. And then you’re going to go home and think about what you'll do next.”
“I can’t go home,” I shake my head. “Not now anyway. He’ll be there and I can’t…”
