I glare at him, my chest heaving, my heart beating so fast and so hard that I feel it in every inch of my body. Through gritted teeth, I mutter, “You’re right. Maybe I can’t.”
I get a sick satisfaction from watching the color drain from his face. Before he can say anything more, I throw myself out of the car and storm off. Sam calls after me, but I ignore him. By the time I’ve gotten to my room, I look down at my phone and he’s called three times. He starts to call a fourth time, but I flick the switch off with a grim determination. Then, I throw my cell on the nightstand and launch myself into bed. I know I’m going to get my pillow covered in foundation and glittery eyeshadow, but I don’t care. Emotions create a maelstrom in my breast as I stare into the darkness, chest heaving as if I’ve just run a marathon.
And there, in the silence of my bedroom, where no one can see, I finally let myself cry.
11
Jessa
* * *
I look at my pale, sweaty face in the mirror. My heart is pounding hard and fast, and my hands are shaking. Obviously, my anxiety is through the goddamn roof, and I think I might pass out from it all. There’s a pregnancy test lying face down on the sink, and I can hardly look at it without bursting into tears.
I hate that I have to check something like this, but I’ve felt bloated ever since that night at the bar, and my period’s late by a week. How can this be happening? Sam and I just broke up, and now I think I’m pregnant? What are the chances?
I take a deep breath and close my eyes. I can’t put this off forever, and it’s been long enough. I have to look. I feel around for the test, grasp it, and hold it up to my face. When I open my eyes, there are two pink stripes as clear as day. Holy smokes! I’m pregnant. I drop the test and it clatters around the bowl of the sink. I step back until I bump into the wall, and then I bend forward, wrapping my arms around my stomach.
“No, no, no…” I whisper. It’s Sam’s baby, but we haven’t talked in days now. We parted on a bad note, and I was determined to lock him out of my life. But now, what am I going to do? I slide down to the floor and pull my knees into my chest. The tears come, and they gush like Niagara Falls. I don’t know how much time has gone by, but finally, when my butt has gone cold and numb, I stagger to my feet. I have to call someone. Pepper. She always knows what to say.
I stumble out of the bathroom and onto my bed while grabbing my cell. Then, I speed dial my best friend’s number while pressing the phone to my ear. Thankfully, she answers on the second ring.
“Hello—”
“Pepper, I’m pregnant,” I interrupt. There’s silence on the other line, and I start crying again.
“Oh, oh, hon,” Pepper soothes. “It’s okay, it’s okay. When did you find out?”
“Just a few minutes ago. I’ve been sobbing in my bathroom for God knows how long.”
“Oh, Jess, I don’t know what to say. Is it Sam’s?”
I start to nod, but then I remember that she can’t see me. “Yes,” I choke out. “But we’re still not talking.”
“Okay. Hold on just a second, Jess.”
I hear blankets rustling from her end of the line. There’s a gruff, sleepy voice that asks her a question, and she coos something back in return. I check the clock and see that it’s half-past eleven at night. Oh shit. That must be Rob and I probably woke them.
“You still there, Jess?” she asks. “Sorry, I had to move into the living room.”
“Yeah, I’m here. Pepper, oh my God, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know it was this late.”
“Don’t worry about that. I wasn’t asleep anyways.”
“Okay,” I sniffle. I turn on my side and curl up around the phone. I feel like a child in desperate need of a hug.
“Jess, I know you don’t want to hear this, but I think you should tell Sam.”
“You’re right, but I disagree.”
“Oh.” She sounds surprised. “But Jess—”
“I really don’t want to hear it right now.”
She sighs. “Okay. I kind of walked into that one, but Jessa, try to see my point of view. I know you two didn’t end things as best friends, but don’t you think he deserves to know about the baby?”
I grip the phone tightly. “No, I don’t. He’s a playboy, Pepper. He’s got women chasing him non-stop. He doesn’t care how much it hurts or how exhausting it is to have to deal with that. Plus, there were three women shaking their titties at him that night at the bar! What the hell?”