I chew on my lower lip. “Maybe.”
“Do you have any more?” she asks. “You should take another one.”
“Yeah, I have a box in my purse from this weekend.”
“Go take it,” she says.
“Why?”
“I think you need to see it a few more times before this really sinks in, babe,” she says.
I sigh. “Fine, but I’m still not telling Brax until after I see my doctor.”
“Fair enough, but you need to talk to him soon,” she says. “I’m terrible at lying to him, and if he starts to suspect something is going on, he’s going to see right through me. I won’t tell, but this is getting really hard to keep in.”
I look at her in alarm. “You didn’t tell Ronan, did you?”
“No, of course not,” she says. “I haven’t told anyone. But it’s killing me to have such a big secret. You need to tell Brax. Soon.”
“I know, I will.”
“Good,” she says. “Now go pee on that stick and tell me what it says.”
I take the test and wait in the bathroom while it sits. I admit, I met Braxton half-naked when I got home on Saturday to put him in a good mood and soften the blow. But then he told me about buying the building, and the trip to London, and I couldn’t bring myself to tell him. It all felt like so much.
Going to the doctor first isn’t just me procrastinating, however. It makes sense. I should be sure. I glance over at the test. Nothing is showing in the result window yet. I tap my foot and look up at the ceiling while I wait.
What do I want it to say? Do I want it to be negative? I’m not sure how I feel about this anymore. I’ve had moments when I think I could actually get excited about this. Other times, I’m so overwhelmed I want to crawl in bed and stay there for a week.
I pick up the test and force myself to look. Yep. Pregnant.
I’m running out of ways to convince myself this isn’t happening.