Then why couldn't I stop thinking about Leo?
When I opened my eyes again, Andrew was still staring at me, a question in his eyes.
This was real.This was now.Leo wasn't real.It was just a weekend.This was my future.
I nodded slowly and Andrew let out a whoop.He jumped to his feet and pulled me into his arms.
"Lexi?"I heard Nicole ask."You're sure?You were just saying—"
I turned to face her and the tears in my eyes must have stopped her from saying what she had planned.Instead, she offered me a small smile and I turned around, buried my head in Andrew's shoulder and tried to stop the tears that had started to flow.He was offering me everything I wanted.A child.A family.
Then why was I crying?
"I'm sure," I said.Andrew's arms felt warm, comfortable.Like everything I ever wanted.
It was easier than I thought to enmesh our lives again.I went with Andrew back to our apartment that night and we made love.
This time without a condom.
I kept my eyes open wide.I was terrified to see Leo's face.Terrified that I would compare Andrew to him, to his touch, his kisses.I don't think Andrew noticed my distance, my complete preoccupation with the idea that I was doing something wrong.
The next day, he helped me move my things back home and our lives seemed to pick up where they'd left off.Once in a while, in the weeks that followed, Nicole would ask me if I was happy, which I thought was a strange question.Of course I was.
Wasn't I?
And anyway, Nicole had always loved Andrew.He was great; we were great.
Things weren't perfect, though; of course, they never had been.But this time it was different.I was different.I couldn't shake the feelings of doubt I had.Before our split, and before going to Vegas, I thought my relationship with Andrew was exactly how love should be but meeting Leo changed that.
Even with Andrew, I'd never had the instant connection that there had been with Leo.The indescribable feeling of being whole with another person.Even though Leo had "ditched me," as Nicole said.The knowledge that I would never see him again made me sad.Devastatingly so.I went through the motions with Andrew, but I couldn't give myself over entirely to him.
Four weeks after our reconciliation, I came home from work, dropped my purse by the door and went straight to the bathroom, where I removed the box from the paper bag.I read the instructions.Twice.
When I'd finished, I flushed the toilet, washed my hands, left the stick on the counter and went into the bedroom.I didn't take my eyes off the clock while I folded the laundry.I made neat piles of towels, stacking them on the bed.
Exactly five minutes passed.Five minutes where I tried, and failed, to think about anything except the test I'd just taken.Not a test of skills like a driver's exam when you were sixteen.Not a test of intelligence like a course final that would determine your GPA.But a test of life-changing proportion all the same.
Leaving the towels half folded, I went to the bathroom door and stopped.The little stick sat benignly on the counter.From here I couldn't see the indicator window that would tell my future.
Two lines.
I wanted—no, needed—the stick to have two lines.I wanted it with a ferocity that drove me to walk to the counter despite my fear that the result wouldn't be positive.I picked up the stick.
Two lines.I blinked hard and focused.
Two lines?
Two lines.
I'm not sure how long I stood there staring at the stick.Tears blurred my vision until the lines swarmed and melded.My hand floated to my belly and the rapidly dividing cells that would be my son or daughter and I smiled.A mom.I was going to be a mom.
After a time, I left the bathroom, almost floating into the kitchen to find the phone.I had to tell Andrew.He would be so excited about the news.I dialed the number I knew by heart but paused before hitting the talk button.
Would he be excited?We'd had conversations about having children, and of course we weren't using condoms but he hadn't been enthusiastic about the idea.Every time I brought it up, he found a way to change the subject.And while he didn't shut down the idea the way he used to, I couldn't help feeling that he still hadn't totally warmed to the thought of a baby.
I pushed the button that cleared the screen and dialed a different number.
"Hello?"