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“I don’t know. It’s been a few weeks. I’ve never been very regular.”

The doctor opens up his medical bag and retrieves a pregnancy test. “You should take this in the bathroom.”

I stare at the box.

“I hit my head,” I say.

It can’t be possible that I’m pregnant. Can it?

Dante and I had sex but I don’t feel pregnant. I’m not exhibiting any other symptoms as far as I can tell.

“Yes, but you were also vomiting. It’s just a precautionary measure. I’m sure it’s just a mild concussion,” Dr. Reiss says. He stands. “I’ll give you two a minute. I’ll be just outside the door.”

I continue to stare at the pregnancy box.

No.

I won’t do it. If there’s even the slightest chance that I’m pregnant with Dante’s kid, I don’t know what he would do or how he’d react.

I’ll fake the test. Dip it in water instead of urine.

I don’t think that I’m pregnant, but I sure as hell can’t take the chance it will come back positive.

Dr. Reiss shuts the door as he leaves the bedroom.

With a heavy sigh, I stand up from the mattress and patter off toward the bathroom, pregnancy box in hand. I try not to make a big deal about it.

“Leave the bathroom door open,” Dante says.

“What? Why?” I glance over my shoulder at him.

Dante’s brow tightens, and he lunges off the mattress, following me to the bathroom. “Until I can trust you, I need to see you take the pregnancy test myself.”

I snort under my breath. “Are you worried I don’t know how to take a pregnancy test? It’s not rocket science.”

“I’m worried you’ll lie to me.”

“I’ll let you see the stick,” I say.

Dante shakes his head. “Yes, and you’ll probably stick it in water or drop it in the toilet bowl to dilute it. I don’t trust you.”


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