Never Say Never: Gravel Hill Boys Book Two

10. Madison

“No!”I shouted. “That’s impossible.” I pointed at the stick Liane held in her hand as if it were a weapon she wielded against me. I stuck out my hand. “Give me that!”

She handed me the stick. Two lines were visible in the little window. “This is a joke, right? A trick stick.” My laugh sounded a bit maniacal. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

“Two lines means you’re pregnant. One means you’re not.” She handed me the package that the horrible, life-changing piece of plastic had come from. I scanned the directions, but the words were just a jumble with only a few sticking their landing.

“Maybe we didn’t wait long enough.” That was probably wishful thinking, but I still needed to voice it out loud.

“It doesn’t tell you that you’re pregnant and then when enough time has passed, changes to tell you that you’re not. That would be horrible.”

I shook my head so hard I felt dizzy. “Not for me.”

“Maybe not for you, but in another scenario, a positive test would be the best moment of their life.”

“Yes, but that’s not what’s happening here.”

“Come on; take a breath and go sit. I’ll make you a cup of tea. I’d offer you a shot, because you could use it, but it looks like you’ll be teetotaling for the next nine months.”

I pushed past her and dashed into my closet. By the time she joined me, I was yanking a pair of running shoes from the shelf.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going to the drug store. That test is faulty. I want to get another one. Another brand. The one you brought is defective.”

I struggled with my sneaker, and instead of unlacing it, I ended up tying the shoelace into a knot. I hurled it across the room and pulled out the first pair of shoes I could grab—a pair of snakeskin booties. Not what I’d typically wear with sweatpants— not that I typically wore sweatpants—but these were desperate times. I yanked off the oversized socks I’d been wearing and tossed them on the floor. I slipped the first boot over my bare foot and was yanking on the zipper when Liane strolled back into my room and tossed four small boxes onto my bed.

“I knew this would happen, so I came prepared. There are four different brands there. All different than the one I’d first given you, which was the top-rated brand, by the way.” She handed me a bottle of water. “Drink up and then go pee into a cup. You can dip the test strips into your urine and do them all at the same time.”

I dropped my boot onto the floor as Liane unboxed the test kits and shoved them at me. “Go get busy. I’m going to eat my dinner.”

“Oh really?” I called after her. “You better eat it out on the terrace because it stinks and the smell is nauseating.”

“No problemo, preggo,” she called over her shoulder.

Five pregnancy tests lay spread across two paper towels on the white marble countertop in my bathroom. All different shapes, sizes, and colors, but all said the same thing.

I was pregnant.

Liane had been right. Somewhere, deep in my subconscious, I knew that I was pregnant. How could I not? I’d just refused to accept it. I’d been ready to saddle myself with some deadly disease rather than admit I’d f’d up royally. And literally.

The thought caused me to snicker.

“What’s so funny,” Liane asked.

“Nothing, just thinking about how badly I’ve messed up.” I jabbed my chopsticks into the container of pad Thai Liane had also brought. The mild noodles and chicken were going down easily. Hopefully, they’d stay down.

“When are you going to tell Connor?”

An unchewed noodle slid down my throat, sending me into a coughing fit. It provided a neat little diversion, but once I’d been able to catch my breath and drink some water, Liane went right back to her assumption that Connor was the father of this surprise baby.

As much as I didn’t want to admit that I did and didn’t know who the father was, I also knew who he wasn’t. This pea-sized human who had taken up residence in my uterus and caused me to spend large chunks of my day with my head in a toilet carried fifty percent of my DNA and fifty percent of the DNA of an unknown stranger.

My head began to ache. “I don’t know,” I said. Which was true. I had no idea when I’d tell Connor. Probably never since it was none of his concern. “I have to think about it.”

“Do you think you guys might get back together once you tell him?”

“No.” To this I could speak adamantly. Even if there had been the slightest chance Connor would have a change of heart, finding out I’d become pregnant with another man’s baby on the night we broke up would’ve cured him of that. Besides, I didn’t want him back.

“We won’t be getting back together; I assure you.”

Liane poured herself a glass of wine and topped off my water glass.

I stared into the crystal goblet. Not fair. I was the one who needed a drink. Not her. With all that I had to think about, I needed more than a glass of wine. I needed the entire bottle.

I tracked her movement as she raised the glass to her lips and drank.

“You might want to reconsider and give him another chance,” she said with a shrug. “After all, it’s his kid too.”

It was killing me not to tell her the truth, but it was all too much for me to wrap my head around. I needed to think. Consider my options. In my gut, I knew which way I was leaning, but I would make no pronouncements tonight, and I certainly wasn’t ready to admit to an uncharacteristic one-night stand where I’d somehow ended up pregnant despite taking the necessary precautions.

This was my reward for having the best sex of my life; a permanent reminder in the form of an actual person and a signed thank-you card.

I rubbed my temples. “I’m feeling a bit overwhelmed and exhausted. Would you mind if we cut this evening short? I’d like to head to bed.”

She jumped to her feet. “Of course not. Let’s get you to bed. Then I’ll clean up and let myself out. Can I get you anything?”

Rising from the table, glad not to have to do anything but brush my teeth and slip between my yummy organic cotton sheets. “A negative pregnancy test.”

As I shuffled toward the bedroom, Liane tossed me a parting shot.

“You know you have to give up caffeine, right? No more double-shot iced brown sugar espressos for you,” she sang over her shoulder. I glared at her, but I was too worn down to respond.

I was stressed and agitated, but could no longer drink alcohol, and I was exhausted and foggy, but I couldn’t have caffeine.

Whoever came up with the rules of engagement for pregnant women was a sadist.

That, or a man.