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"Pregnancy tests."
"Oh," I swallow.
"I had them delivered, along with your prescription."
I make no move to touch the sack.
"It’s best we find out for sure," he coaxes me.
I gulp. He’s right, of course. But oh, my god, this is what I’ve always wanted, and if I’m not pregnant, what then? And what if I am? How does that change everything?
"It’s okay; I’m here." He pushes the hair from my cheek. "Whatever the result, whatever you decide, I’m here for you."
"Okay." I rise to my feet, then snatch the bag and walk toward the bathroom at the end of the corridor. When I step in, he follows. "No." I turn to him. "Please. I need to do this on my own."
He looks like he’s about to refuse, then steps back. I shut the door, lock it, then walk toward the counter and pull out the pregnancy tests. The blood drains from my face. I manage to pull out one of the pee-sticks, then place it on the counter. I look at the mirror and splash some water on my face. I can do this. I can. I pull down my yoga-pants, perch on the pot and pee on the stick. Then, I place it on tissue paper, clean myself up, flush, straighten my clothes, and walk back and forth on the bathroom floor.
"You okay?" Ed knocks on the door.
"Yes, just, ah… Waiting for the results." I wash my hands again, dry them, then sneak a look at the test. "No," I whisper. "No, no, no."
68
Edward
I hear her gasp, then the muffled thump of a body hitting the floor before the sound of crying reaches me.
"Belle!" I knock on the door. "Let me in."
She doesn’t answer, just continues crying.
I try the handle, but it doesn’t open. "Belle!" I rap on the door again. "Let me in, please."
The weeping seems to escalate, my heartbeat keeping pace.Fuck… Fuck, fuck, fuck. It’s my fault she doesn’t trust me enough to be with her now when she took the test. And it’s my fault she’s not letting me in right now so I can comfort her. It’s my fault I’m listening to my sweet wife cry and I'm not able to do anything about it.
"Belle, please—" I swallow. "Please, baby, it’s killing me to stand out here and listen to you weep. I’ll do anything, anything to stop it; anything, Belle, please."
There’s no response. The sound of her crying fades and there’s silence. Dread is an anchor in my stomach, a twist in my guts, a burning sensation in my heart. I push my palm into the door and place my forehead against it. If this is how it feels to be helpless and not be able to do anything for the one person who is more important to you than anything in the world, I don’t want to feel this again. I sink to my knees. Then, for only the second time since I left the priesthood, I beseech him,Please, God, please help me. Give me one chance to set things right with her. I beg You, if You’re there and if You're hearing me, allow me near her. Please, I—
The door swings open. She stands in front of me. I look up into her features. Her nose is red, her eyes swollen.
"What is it, Belle?" I rise to my feet.
She shakes her head.
"Tell me, sweetheart." I move forward, and she takes a step back.
That anchor in my stomach drops to my feet. It feels like I’m drowning. I need to be strong. For her. "Belle, let me help you."
She locks her arms around her waist. "Okay."
"Okay?"
She nods.
"What do you want from me? Tell me, baby, please. I’ll do anything. Anything to make things up to you. Anything to make you feel better."
"Anything?" She tilts her head. There’s a feverish look in her eyes now. "Anything?" she asks in a shrill voice.
