“That’s fine,” Ford said. The guys usually planned the jobs without me. I was the newest but also was only a pilot. My expertise was needed on flying ops and until we were given the job from Lincoln, I had no role. I might not have any at all if it was land-based.
Out in the car, I peered over at Mrs. L who looked suspiciously innocent with her bag in her lap.
“When I got pregnant with Ford’s dad, I was sick the whole first trimester,” she offered as we bumped down the drive.
“I can’t be pregnant,” I assured her. “I took the shot. I’m not due for another one for two more weeks.”
“Sometimes pregnancies still happen. Even with vasectomies. Or when a woman is on the pill. Some men just have very strong swimmers.” She gave me a wise old owl look. “Kennedy seems like he might be that kind of man.”
“Oh my God!” I said with a laugh. I couldn’t believe I was discussing Kennedy’s swimmers with Mrs. L.
The heat on my cheeks was like an inferno. I used driving as my reason for not looking her way, instead keeping my gaze fixed squarely on the road in front of us.
“We aren’t–”
“Yes, you are.”
“It’s not–”
“Yes, it is.”
“It can’t–”
“It can. Think about it, honey. You passed out at the emergency training last week. You’ve been queasy. All of those things point to a pregnancy.”
I suddenly wanted to throw up again and not because I ate bad nuts on the plane.
Damn.
She could be right. But it wasn’t possible. I meant, it shouldn’t be. The shot was ninety-nine percent effective.
Oh God. Could I really be the one percent?
I let out a soft groan. I was turned off by alcohol, and I was now eating olives.
“I thought we should just pick up a test or two, just to put our minds at ease.” Mrs. L adjusted her purse in her lap.
“Yeah,” I said weakly, freaking out a heck of a lot. “I guess you’re right. That probably is a good idea.”
I couldn’t be pregnant. It would really… not be cool.
It felt like we couldn’t get to the store fast enough. Anxiety stirred in my belly, creating a fresh wave of seasickness. I parked and climbed out of the car on shaky legs.
I wasn’t pregnant. I wasn’t pregnant.
I kept telling myself that the entire walk into the store. Through the aisles. To the counter to pay for the box. Mrs. L thankfully gave me room, going off in search of… I had no idea what.
“I’m just, um, going to use the restroom here,” I told her when she found me at the register. There was no way in hell I was taking a pregnancy test back to the bunkhouse. Pregnant or not, I didn’t want any of the guys to find the box in the trash.
They’d think then that I was a woman, not a pilot or a team member. And Kennedy? He was the last person I wanted in on this. He’d made itveryclear his stance on babies.
As usual, her penetrating gaze saw all. “Of course you are, dear. I’ll be waiting.”
I went into the restroom and opened the box with trembling fingers. I unfolded the instructions and quickly skimmed. The box contained two tests, which was good because it recommended testing first thing in the morning, but there was no way I could wait for that. I was here, stick in hand, hovering by a toilet. If I got a negative now, I could always retest tomorrow morning, just to be sure.
But the negative now would calm my nerves a lot.
I was sure it would be negative because I. Got. The. Shot.