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“Tired? Frequent urination? Sounds to me like you’re pregnant,” she quips.
“What? No. That’s not possible.”
I check the incoming message as she continues.
“Are you telling me that you and that hunky fireman of yours aren’t making the headboard rattle on the regular?” she asks.
No problem. I could tell you weren’t yourself last night. I’ll cover your shift. Take a sick day and get some rest. I’ll see you tomorrow.
“Of course we are, but we’re careful,” I tell her.
“Careful how exactly?”
“We use protection,” I mutter as I type out a reply.
Thanks, Reed. I’ll make it up to you.
“Use your words, Maxi. What kind of protection?” she pushes.
“Condoms.”
“Well, there you go. Condoms aren’t always reliable. Trust me, I know,” she says.
“They’ve always been reliable for me,” I state.
“And you two have never ever fooled around without one? Not once?” she questions.
I hesitate.
“Maxi?”
“A few times, okay? In the shower, but he pulls out every time,” I explain.
She laughs. “Oh my God, just go to the pharmacy and buy a pregnancy test.”
“Why?” I squeal.
I don’t squeal. What the fuck is wrong with me?
“So you know for sure,” she insists.
“You just told me I couldn’t trust condoms from the pharmacy. Why the hell should I trust a piece of plastic that you pee on to tell me whether or not my life is about to drastically change?” I shout.
“Breathe, Maxi,” Lynn coaxes.
“Breathe? Are you fucking kidding me right now?” I screech out.
“You’re going to hyperventilate. That won’t be good for the baby.”
“Lynn!” I scream into the phone.
More laughter.
“I’m sorry. I’m yanking your chain. It’s too fun,” she says.
“It’s not fun for me,” I bite.
“Seriously, Maxi. It can’t hurt to get a test. If it’s negative, you can write it all off to stress or something.”
