CHAPTER 42
Palmer
“All right,” Lindy says, rubbing her hands together as if she’s just been challenged to put together a puzzle. “Let’s do this.”
We start opening the boxes and lay out the various tests. The confusion must be apparent on my face, because Lindy points toward one of the tests in my hand as she instructs, “Open that one and get the little dropper thingy out.”
I do as she says then pause, waiting for the next step.
Lindy continues to unbox and unwrap tests as she explains, gesturing with her head. “You’re going to do, like, three drops on the little circle wind—No, not yet!”
I pause, hand positioned over the test, and stare at her quizzically. “Why?”
“We have to do them all at the same time.” She rolls her eyes theatrically then holds up her hand with the pregnancy tests bundled together like a bouquet.
“Is there a specific reason?” I ask.
“Well, no…” Lindy answers, as she dips the tests in one at a time then secures the cap before setting them down.
“Then why do I have to wait?”
She ponders for a moment then giggles and shrugs. “Honestly, I have no idea. I just thought we could make it a thing. Go ahead.”
I shake my head at her, but a small grin finds its way onto my face.
I squeeze three drops into the circular window then squeeze the rest back into the cup and sit on the toilet facing away from the counter.
The nausea from earlier returns rapidly, but this time it’s accompanied by my legs bouncing uncontrollably and shallow breathing. “I don’t think I can watch.”
“You good, P?” Lindy asks, leaning her hip against the counter.
Closing my eyes and concentrating on my breathing, I take a deep breath in through my nose and shoot her a thumbs up.
The thought of being pregnant is terrifying. Genuinely, just the thought of having a tiny little alien possibly growing inside of me at this very moment is enough to have me on the precipice of a full-fledged panic attack.
And yet, somehow, the thought of the test being negative also has me feeling some type of way.
It’s not that I never wanted kids or anything like that. I just never really thought I would. Clay didn’t really want them, so I think that maybe somewhere along the line, I also told myself I didn’t want them either. But I don’t know whether I actually did.
Or do.
Bailey would be an amazing father. He’s kind, loyal, gentle, caring. Literally everything someone would want in a father. But what if he doesn’t want to be a father? More specifically, what if he doesn’t want to be a father with me? I know he just told me that he loves me, but babies change things.
What if he thinks I’m trying to trap him if it’s positive?
And what if it’s negative? What if I’m happy about that? What does that say about me? About him? About us?
I clear my throat and croak, “How long do we have to wait again?” It feels like it’s been hours.
“Um… well, do you want the time on the box or the actual time?”
“Huh?” I turn to glance over my shoulder at Lindy staring wide-eyed at the countertop. Shakily, I rise to stand next to her and watch as two lines appear, bold and dark, on every single test.