Chapter 6
GRACIE
Who the hell decided cranberry sauce goes well with stuffing? I mean, sure, every year until this one it’s been a great combo, but this year someone really must have gone off the recipe card. Maybe the can of sauce was out of date. I don’t know, but my stomach is not happy.
Looking in the mirror of my bathroom, my dark blue cotton pajama jumpsuit with snowflakes on it seems to complement the gray tint on my face, and I look as though I haven’t slept for days, which makes zero sense, as all I’ve been is tired.
I even managed to throw in a nap yesterday after taking the holiday decorations out of my closet.
But I’m just waiting for my period. It can be wacky on dates sometimes.
Opening the door to my bedroom, I yelp in fright, my hand going straight to my chest. My heart is racing, shocked to find Asher sitting on the edge of my bed.
“What the hell?” I lean over with my hand on my chest to settle my nerves.
Although I’m relieved it’s only him, I don’t quite understand how he got into my home or why he has a hardened look and his icy eyes are spearing into me.
He’s in a suit which tells me that he must have come straight from the party.
If his mood wasn’t so disconcerting, then I would drink in the sight of him a little more.
He has the ability to mesmerize me into a trance.
“How did you get in here?”
He glances to his side on the mattress before driving his gaze straight back at me.
“Take the test.” He’s direct and stern. His whole demeanor makes me want to slap him as much as kiss him.
He’s bossy and sexy and… my eyes drift to the mattress where he seems to have brought a pile of pregnancy tests.
“Excuse me?” I blink a few times, half-pissed off at his authoritarian attitude and angry because he, well… won’t let me not confront what might have slipped into my mind a time or two the last few days.
“Take the test,” he repeats, this time gritting out the words.
I rest my hand against the door frame to my bathroom, forgetting that my pajamas barely make it halfway down my thighs but his eyes appraising me for a few seconds remind me.
“You have some audacity to storm on in here, which how the hell did you? And then demand that I take a pregnancy test.” I’m a bit offended—or I’m just buying myself time.
Asher taps a long finger on one of the test boxes. “Don’t leave your key under the pot no matter if the town’s biggest worry is a wild deer. And take the damn test.”
“It was a goat gone rogue,” I correct him.
He contritely lifts the edges of his mouth into a closed smile. “Test. Now.”
My jaw lowers, and my mouth goes dry. My voice seems to be lost.
His face remains icy. “I’m not blind. I noticed how you nearly threw up at the buffet a few times.
Or the fact that your sass was a little less tonight.
No matter how beautiful you are, it can’t be denied that you look like you have sea sickness, even though we are on fucking land.
Then, funny thing, I’m great with numbers.
” Inhaling a sharp breath, I listen to him.
“Need those numbers for penalty kills and power play percentages, and I also need numbers when looking at a calendar and counting back. So, take the fucking test, maybe three while we are at it,” he bites out.
My lips roll in as I accept his facts, and my breath picked up already when he mentioned throwing up.
I scoff a sound and propel my body away from the bathroom to the chair in the corner that has a robe that matches my pajamas, and I slide it on and tie the belt.
“Don’t be ridiculous. There are flus going around. ”
Don’t make me take a test. Please.
His eyes go wide at my statement. “You don’t believe that, nor do I. Leave the robe off and please take a test.”
Angerly, I throw my robe off. Hot instruction. My hands land on my hips. “You really have some audacity coming in here.”
A shade a sympathy floods his face as he stands and saunters to me. “Look, I’m sure you’re scared, but you can’t lie to me right now. Could you be pregnant?”
My mouth opens and words get stuck halfway up my throat, then I smile nervously. “Don’t be ridiculous… Okay, yes, fine. There could be a chance.” I give up.
He catches my chin with his forefinger and thumb to guide my eyes to meet his. “Denial, huh.” His voice has softened.
I attempt to look away, but he almost affectionately draws my sight back to him. “Maybe something like that.”
“Time to confront it, don’t you think?”
Breaking away from his fingers, I sigh. “You’re right,” I admit.
“We need to know.”
The way he says we pokes me gently inside. I barely nod, and he steps back to the pile of tests, picks one up, and breaks the wrapping.
Walking to him, I peer over his shoulder. “Was there a sale or something?” It’s almost funny. There are like eight tests.
He shrugs. “You never know how many we’ll need.” He nearly shoves the test in my hand.
Inhaling a deep breath, I accept this situation then disappear into the bathroom. When I emerge again, Asher is sitting exactly where he was the last time I crossed this doorway. This time, his body is more subdued and his fingers thrum along the edge of the mattress.
“And?” His eyes widen.
I hold up the stick. “We wait a few minutes.”
I sit next to him, and he scooches over to make space.
Sitting side by side, I feel his warmth and inhale the scent of his cologne; today it reminds me of cardamom.
Our vision drills into the test stick that is face down in my hand.
The silence is unbearable, and I can hear an invisible ticking clock in my head.
We sit there for a few minutes until I accept that the time is up.
A breath escapes my pursed lips, and I slowly flip the stick.
And my world just changed forever.
“Shit,” Asher grits out, and he rubs his face, his mouth gaped open. My stomach does a giant somersault. “Take another test.”
I hop up to standing. “Screw that. Give me all of them.” I hold out my hands, and I’m determined to prove this test wrong. Thank goodness I didn’t empty my bladder because of the whisper in the back of my head that maybe I would need to take another test.
He’s in full agreement and scoops up the boxes and gives them to me. I’m quick to disappear into the bathroom, and five minutes later, we both look down in astonishment at the row of tests on my bathroom counter.
Two lines. Red circle. Two lines again. Oh look, a digital one that says pregnant, in case my mind still needs clarification.
“So…” I say as we both stare blankly at our fate.
“I guess I should be thankful on this Thanksgiving Day that there was a store open so I could spend my evening staring at tests that confirm that you are indeed pregnant.” His quip falls flat, but he gets a point for attempting to joke.
“It’s yours, in case you were wondering.” I can’t drag my eyes away, and I take a deep breath because I’m dizzy from this news. “I’m not some puck bunny who planned to seduce you then trap you—”
He holds his hand up to stop me. “I wasn’t thinking that. You have no reason to trap me. And you didn’t exactly seduce me. You are just far too sexually confident that I find you intoxicating. A firecracker that makes me thoughtless on the birth control front.”
“Are you saying this is my fault?”
“No. I’m saying you are a woman with power who casts spells on people.”
I blink a few times. “So, I’m Frau Perchta?”
His eyes widen at me, and he gooses his neck. “Who the fuck is Frau Perchta?”
“The German witch of winter. Some say she is actually a goddess. She can reward or punish you, especially during the twelve days of Christmas, and it’s now winter.”
He shakes his head side to side, and his finger indicates to wrap it up.
“We’re going off track, but we will go with the goddess part.
And we are both responsible for our birth control fail.
Which everything else except procreation I’m good on when it comes to the eighth-grade safe sex talk, that I clearly once ignored as a grown man. ”
“Me too.”
“Now let’s talk about this baby. You. Me. A baby, to be exact.”
I’m slightly relieved by his compliment, even if it wasn’t meant to be one. Silence lingers in my bathroom again as my new reality sinks in. Finally, he touches my arm, and we both drag our eyes away from the view of our confirmation.
“We should probably talk.” His sincerity is strong.
Before I can respond, an overpowering lightheadedness sweeps through me, and my body becomes the Leaning Tower of Pisa. Asher is quick to offer me support, and his hand takes a grip on my arm.
“Come on, you should lie down on your side,” he insists and helps guide me to my bed.
“It’s the news. My body is just trying to deal with the shock… Okay, it’s probably a pregnancy symptom, like all the other ones I’ve been in denial about.” My voice is faint, and my eyes feel heavy as Asher aids me to lie on my side.
He tosses the throw blanket on me that I keep on the edge of my bed and leans down. “Just rest.”
Swallowing, I’m not sure what to say or ask. Only the obvious. “What now?”
His sigh is strong and fills the room while our eyes link for a few beats before he stands and begins to pace the floor. Rubbing his temples, he is thinking. “I don’t know.” He seems frustrated. “I have to be on a flight first thing in the morning to Philly. I can’t think right now.”
Attempting to sit up, I fall right back down. “We should take a breather. Discuss this in a few days.”
“We have options.” He stops mid-pace, and his sentence slices through me, and maybe he senses that. “Just… you’re right… take a few days and let the news sink in.”
Is his body language already indicating what he wants? Is his mind already made up? What do I want?
“Okay, we’re on the same page about waiting to discuss. When are you back?”
“Sunday.”
I focus on taking a few breaths, accepting that the next few days won’t be easy. “Then we’ll talk then.”
The sting in the corner of my eye and the strain in my throat begins, indicating tears are about to break out.
“Are you mad?” I wonder.
Asher rubs his face and chuckles bitterly under his breath. “This definitely wasn’t the surprise that I was planning on.”
So, he is angry.
“Neither was I.”
He shakes his head. “My focus should be on one thing: the team. This is my time to make my mark and turn the organization around. Distractions are the last thing I need, but here we are.” He sounds annoyed.
I’m beginning to get pissed off, and I sit up, dizziness be damned. “Yeah, here we are,” I volley back, completely deflated.
“Gracie, we can both admit that neither one of us had this in our future planning right now.”
I bite my lip tucked into my mouth and try to fight the stream of tears that fills me because an overwhelming feeling comes over me not to be disappointed with this news.
He watches me and maybe he realizes that he is being insensitive or lacking tact in his choice of words.
“Just… let’s take a breather and give ourselves a few days,” he reaffirms. Rubbing the back of his neck, he blows out another breath.
“You’ll be alright now? I mean, you don’t seem to be feeling well. ” At least his concern is convincing.
Shrugging, I feel the need to state the obvious that we’ve now figured out. “I’m pregnant, remember? This comes with the territory.”
He slowly nods, and his cheeks tighten from the reality. “Right. Pregnant,” he repeats to himself. Throwing his thumb over his shoulder, he has a pained expression. “I should go then, if you don’t need anything right now. You need rest.”
“Yeah, sure. Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.” I’m kind of pissed off, and I’m not exactly sure the root of it. Asher has every right to deal with his shock in his own way. Maybe I’m just too sensitive. Hormones, right?
He gawks at me from my brazen attitude. “Sunday. I’ll see you Sunday.”
I bob my head groggily and let my head fall onto my pillow as he sees himself out.
Staring up at the ceiling, I accept that I’m completely lost right now.