She shook her head, the possibility not even something she could process. “No, don’t panic. It’s fine. It’s probably fine.” The wrapper crinkled in her fist as she squeezed too tightly. “My cycles vary and can go long. It happens all the time.”
“Yeah?” he asked, a hopeful note in his voice.
She nodded, trying to reassure herself along with him. “Yes.”
Shaw ran a hand over the back of his neck, visibly shaken. “Right. Okay.”
She reached out and gave his knee a squeeze. “None of the condoms broke. I’m sure we’re fine.”
But acid burned the back of her throat. What if they weren’t?
He put his hand over hers, and she could feel a slight tremble in his. “I bought a test. I think you should take it, you know, just to ease our minds. I don’t think I can…not know for sure. After…” He cleared his throat. “I’d just feel better with confirmation.”
Her mind jumped back to what he’d told her about his past, the pregnant girlfriend, why she’d ended it. Jesus. This was a code red in Shaw’s head. How could it not be? Her ribs cinched tight, her heart hurting for him. “Of course. I’d like to know for sure, too.”
Shaw leaned forward and cupped the back of her neck to kiss her. “Thank you. I know I’m probably panicking for nothing but—”
“It’s fine,” she said, touching her forehead to his. “I understand. Let’s get this done so we can eat some dinner, okay? I’m starving.”
He gave her a tremulous smile. “Deal.”
Taryn tried to remain one hundred percent calm as Shaw went to the grocery bag on the counter and pulled out a pregnancy test. She took it from him, staring down at the bright-pink box, her hands beginning to shake. Shit. She was taking a pregnancy test.
Her mind wouldn’t wrap around that fact. The self-talk ran rampant in her head. This didn’t have to be a big deal. This was just a precaution. Paranoia. The condom hadn’t broken. Expiration dates were just estimates. She’d once eaten a bag of Doritos that were a year expired. They were fine. She didn’t need to freak out. She was just doing this to ease Shaw’s mind.
Shaw followed her to his room and stopped at the bathroom door. “Can you come out when you’re done so I can watch the results with you?”
“Sure,” she said, the word coming out too high.
Taryn went inside and braced her hands on the edge of the sink for a moment, trying to get herself in check. She would not lose it. She was fine. Rebecca was the pregnant one. Not her. She could not be pregnant.
With a baby.
With Shaw Miller’s baby.
Oh fuck. She couldn’t go there. The thought was too twisted and screwed up to even consider. Soap opera screwed up. How the hell had she ended up here? This was just supposed to be a fun, no-pressure affair.
Taryn took a few deep breaths so as not to completely lose her shit and tried to read the instructions for the test. Then she did what she needed to do, which was surprisingly challenging—aiming for a stick held by a trembling hand. She washed her hands, set the test on the counter, and opened the door.
Shaw had paled three shades since she’d closed the door. He stepped inside, his eyes going straight to the stick on the counter. “How long is it supposed to take?”
“Two minutes,” she said. “In other words, forever.”
He huffed. “No kidding.”
She put a hand on his back, trying to give comfort, but really seeking it for herself as well. “One line means we’re good.”
“Right.”
Neither of them dared mention that there was any other possibility but one line.
So they stood there and stared. Taryn’s mind spun so fast that she felt like she was outside herself, watching the two of them watch the test. She had set a timer on her phone, and when it went off, they both startled.
Shaw’s head dipped between his shoulders, his whole body sagging against the sink.
Taryn started laughing, an edge of hysteria to it, the relief palpable. She leaned back against the wall and closed her eyes. “One line. Good job, old-ass condoms.”
Shaw spun toward her and swept her into a hug. His grip was bordering on desperate, squishing her breath from her. “I’m so sorry, Taryn. I’m so, so sorry to have put you in this position.”