I try to think of the last time I had my period. A week ago? Two weeks ago? Okay, let’s be real here. I’m like clockwork. My period shows up every twenty-eight to thirty days. And it warns me too. It was two weeks ago, give or take a few days. Which means I should be ovulating.
Right.
Now.
“Oh God,” I say out loud, and close my eyes. Press my hands against them, rubbing hard. Maybe it was all a dream. Maybe we really didn’t have amazing shower sex. I imagined the entire thing. My hands fall away from my eyes as I continue to stare at the ceiling. Yep, that’s what happened.
There’s rustling at the door, a click sounds and then the door swings open, letting in a bright beam of light. I close my eyes and turn my head, thankful when the door quietly shuts.
“Amanda?”
I sit up. Offer a little wave. “Hey.” My voice is weak. I sound pitiful.
Jordan sets a takeout container on the desk and approaches the bed. “Hey, sleepyhead. Did I wake you?”
“No, I woke up a few minutes ago.” I run a hand over my hair, wincing. I went to bed with it wet and now it’s all over the place. Great.
“You sleep good?”
“Yeah. Really good.” I try to smile, but I give up quick.
I’m freaking out here. How do I tell him this? I mean, it could be nothing. I have no idea how fertile I am. What if I’m not fertile at all? What if it turns out that getting pregnant won’t be easy for me? What if I end up having to do in-vitro or whatever?
Oh my God, talk about putting the cart before the horse.
Hmm, I could also—do something to ensure I won’t get pregnant. There are plenty of options out there.
But this is with Jordan. The boy you loved. The man you probably still love. The man you want to be with forever…
“You okay?” He settles his big hand on my shoulder, giving it a squeeze. My skin warms from his touch and I waver.
Should I tell him? He needs to know. My chances of getting knocked up are high.
I’m also panicking. Worrying over potentially nothing. So…yeah.
For now, I need to keep this to myself. No use in getting him worked up too.
“I’m fine. Still a little out of it,” I assure him.
“Hungry?” he asks.
My stomach chooses that moment to growl. Loudly. My nervous laughter mingles with his deep chuckle.
“I take that as a yes.” He stands and goes over to the desk, grabbing the to-go box he brought in with him. “Can I turn on a lamp?”
“Go for it,” I tell him, and he does. The bright light makes me blink, holding a hand over my eyes like a vampire. “Oh God, that’s awful.”
“You’ll get used to it. You need to wake up anyway. You need to adjust to the time change.” He pops open the box and the room instantly fills with the delicious smells of the dinner he brought. “Come over here and eat.”
I crawl out of bed, tugging the shirt down as I do, though I don’t know why I’m worried. It’s so large, the hem almost comes to my knees. I pad over to the desk and look inside the box. There’s baked chicken and roasted potatoes, plus a side of green beans flecked with slivered almonds. A flaky roll sits next to the chicken and my mouth literally starts to water.
“Oh my God, I’m starving. This looks amazing.”
Jordan pulls the chair away from the desk for me and I plop my butt onto the seat, realizing quick that I’m not wearing any underwear.
Well. I have a feeling I should get used to this. We’re going to sightsee all over London, but I anticipate us spending a lot of time in bed together too. Using condoms every single time, I might add.
No more accidental protection-free sex for us. No way.