Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
LUNA
I wasn’t sure how Demi would take it when I told her I’d been talking with a biker in a motorcycle club, but surprisingly, she was enthusiastic. Encouraging even. What those men did to her might have hurt her emotionally, but she’s a rockstar who’s bounced back and refuses to let them dictate her future.
As she told me, they may have dented her a little, but she won’t let them destroy her.
“Are you sure you’re okay going to a clubhouse full of men, Demi?” I ask, not for the first time.
“Luna,” she says around a sigh. “If I wasn’t good, I’d tell you. You know this about me.”
“I’m just checking. I won’t have you going somewhere that’ll make you feel jumpy or uncomfortable.”
“And I love you for that, I really do, but there’s no need. I went to the office, cleared out my personal items, then left my resignation on his desk,” she advises. “If nothing else, I have almost five weeks of vacation time that I’m owed.”
“By any chance, did they offer you anything, money wise to not mention what happened that night?” I don’t have to specify what time period I’m talking about—she knows.
“I didn’t speak to anyone,” she tells me. “I marched in there with my head held high, cleared my shit out, and eyeballed anyone who came near me.”
“You were in tigress mode, huh?” I ask, snickering.
“Oh, yeah. It didn’t hurt that I also had my pepper spray in my hand.” We look at each other and start giggling. She wields that thing like a weapon.
“I would’ve loved to be a fly on the wall and hear what they had to say about that,” I state. “I bet they were shaking in their loafers.”
“Couldn’t tell you. All I know is the room cleared out and everyone hit their offices and closed their doors. The employees who work in cubicles suddenly found their monitors interesting.”
As I bend over, laughing my ass off, a bout of queasiness strikes. “Fuck. I thought I was done with this shit,” I moan as I rush to the bathroom and kneel before the toilet.
“Okay, Luna. Enough is enough already. Tomorrow, you’re going to the clinic. We need to figure out what’s going on with you. I’ve had it up to here with you putting it off,” she rages, raising her hand to where it’s even with her forehead.
“Fine. I’ll hit the urgent care center off Main Street. They have the least wait time in the area. The last thing I want to do on a Sunday is sit in a waiting room for six to eight hours.”
“I’m going to hold you to that, Luna. I’ll drag you there myself if I have to,” she declares. “Could you be pregnant?”
“Pregnant?” My jaw drops to the floor. “Hell, no. The only time I’ve had sex in the last few years we used a condom, plus I have a birth control implant. The percentage of that happening is less than nil.”
“You never know, Luna, you could be one of those mystery people. The last thing we want to have happen is you being one of those women giving birth in the bathroom because you were clueless to the fact that you had a peanut growing in your belly. Have you had your period since you were with Marcum?”
Yes, Demi knows that I was with him in that way. We tell each other everything. At least, I think we do but her last confession has me questioning that. “No. But you know that my cycle is hit or miss. Always has been. I’ve been known to skip it here and there. Sometimes I can go months in between having one. It’s why the doctors have always been skeptical if I’d be able to get pregnant in the first place. That’s why I think this is some sort of stomach bug.”
“A revolving one? Luna, come on. Let’s be real here. If you had a stomach bug, it’d be more consistent.”
“Demi, stop trying to scare me. Now, I’ve gotta Google my symptoms. For all we know I have a parasite or cancer. For fuck’s sake!”
Yes, I’m one of those people who research my symptoms. I do it all the time for my books, so why not for myself? I don’t want to be one of those people who ends up with a mystery illness that requires me to travel to some fancy hospital for treatment.
“Or, instead of scanning the internet, because let’s face it they always go to the worst case scenarios, I could walk down to the drug store and get a test.”
“Yeah. Okay, let’s do that.” I nod my head, lost in my thoughts.
It’d be my luck that in the prime of my life I have some sort of stomach eating parasite freeloading inside of my body. I mean, the least it could do is pay a fee for invading my organs. I sit on my bed lost in thought as I hear the sound of my door closing. What am I going to do if it’s something serious? Would my career be over before I got a chance to share my stories? Readers don’t like to be left wondering what’s happening when your last book ended on a story arc. Can I forgive myself if I set things up for the next couple and not give them their happily ever after?
I mean, I have started writing it. I bet I could finish it through chemo or antibiotics that are meant to kill strange organisms living inside of you. It’ll be brutal, but I could do it. Right? There are women who complete online degrees while undergoing treatment. I’m young and strong, I can do this. I think.
“Fuck!” I shout, flopping back onto the mattress. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”
I’m still laying on my bed, contemplating my life when Demi comes in. She leans over me with a plastic bag swinging between her fingers.
“You ready to do this?”
“No,” I remark. “Because if I’m not, it means I’m dying.”
“You’re not dying, Luna. I won’t let you,” she vehemently declares. “Don’t be dramatic until you have reason to be.”
I snatch the bag from her and roll out of the bed to head to my ensuite, Demi hot on my tail. At this point, we’ve long ago lost any modesty so I set the bag on the sink counter, drop my pants and sit on the toilet. Demi helpfully opens the test and hands it to me.
“Pee, woman,” she commands, which has me giggling. Who the hell can pee on demand?
“Demi,” I warn, my bladder suddenly freezing up. “I can’t go!”
She laughs but it sounds a bit… sinister, before she turns on the faucet until the water’s running full blast. “There ya go, bitch. Now pee, dammit!”
I finally manage to pee on the stick without covering my own hand in urine, finish then flush. While the test sits there doing whatever it’s supposed to do, I thoroughly wash my hands then dry them. My eyes are constantly straying to the stick as Demi finally reads through the directions.
“Okay, if it’s positive, you’ll get a giant plus sign. If it’s not, you’ll get a minus one,” she says. “Shit, these instructions are in four different languages!”
I start giggling at the absurdity of the situation, hysteria over what it might reveal pounding in my brain. “Four, huh?” I finally manage to stammer out.
The timer Demi set on her phone chimes and she peers at the test, before widening her eyes somewhat dramatically. “Um, Luna? I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but something failed for you and Marcum that night. You’re going to have a baby.”
“The test has to be defective, Demi. There’s no fucking way!” I deny. “I mean, I have the implant and it’s still good for another year before it has to be replaced. Plus, he wore a condom!”
She’s doing something on her phone then asks, “What was the name of your implant?” I tell her and she taps away again then says, “Luna, this particular implant was recently recalled.”
My heart starts racing while the room begins to spin. “Why was it recalled?” I ask as I slide down to the floor, my back against my shower stall. Right now, I’m grateful it has a glass door, because otherwise, I’d end up on my back because I feel absolutely boneless.
“Because the failure rate is higher than the acceptable parameters. Apparently, there’s also a class action lawsuit that’s been started for women who ended up pregnant while using it,” she replies.
Oh. My. God.
Marcum.
How in the world am I going to tell him that I’m pregnant? We weren’t careless adults, we took the appropriate precautions yet here we are, pregnant.
This is like a storyline in one of my books. Woman and man meet, spend one magical night together, occasionally text back and forth, then bam. Baby on board.
We don’t know each other well enough to raise a kid together. We have chemistry, but outside of that, I don’t know if we’re going to work in the long run. I hang my head and place it between my hands. What the fuck am I going to do if he goes running for the hills? Lord knows that’s what I’d do if I were wearing his shoes.
Is he going to think I did something in order to trap him? That’s one of my biggest fears right now outside of the fact that I’m carrying his baby inside of my womb. I bet he’s going to lose his shit and go ballistic on me.
“What are you thinking, Luna?” Demi asks, crouching down beside me.
“What if he thinks I did this on purpose, Demi?”
“Then he’s a fool who needs my size eight up his ass,” she answers.
“Wait until you see him, Demi. You’ll understand that he won’t be intimidated by you and your foot won’t be viewed as a threat to his manhood.”
“All men can be taken down to their knees, woman. If anyone knows that, it’s me. But you can’t let your fear of what could be win this round, Luna. He’s your baby daddy, you have to tell him. You can’t hide this from him and raise this kid on your own.”
“How did you know that’s what I was thinking?” I ask, sobs wracking my body.
“Because you have a savior complex, Luna. You don’t want him hurt by this so you’re already trying to find ways around telling him and changing his life.”
“Don’t pretend like you know me,” I laugh, wiping my cheeks.
“No matter what happens, I’m here for you, Luna. If I need to be the daddy, so be it.”
With that, we chuckle, hugging one another closely. Tonight is going to be interesting in more ways than one.