“Says you.”
“Come on. Don’t be petty.”
“I’m not ready to be all chummy with her. Call me Petty Betty.”
“She worries about you.”
I roll my eyes. “I’m so sure.”
“Well, if you won’t come to lunch with us, at least take this.” She hands me a drug store bag.
“What is it?”
“Sis, come on. You aren’t fooling anyone with this stomach bug bullshit. Mom told me how you reacted to the turkey sandwich. I was the same way with the twins. And Fisher told Whiskey and my husband tells me everything because he wants me to continue to fuck him.”
“Ugh. I don’t want to.”
“You’ve got to. Bathroom. Now.” She’s using her mom voice on me, and I hate it.
I tuck the bag under my arm and grab some clean clothes from my bag. I’ve been crashing on Yara and Whiskey’s couch for the past two weeks. I know I need to figure my shit out. I can’t stay with them forever. They have their own life. Jill’s been calling and asking when I’m coming back. I completely blew Justin off. He told Jill to tell me to lose his number. I can’t blame him. I’m a hot ass mess.
“Take the test,” my sister snaps at me.
“I’m going. Geez. So pushy.” I stick my tongue out at her. Truth is I’m terrified. I haven’t spoken to Death. He has no idea that I suspect I’m pregnant. Best scenario would be that the baby is Fisher’s, and we work things out. No one else would ever have to know that I slept with the VP of my father’s club. Considering all things, I don’t know if I want to inform Death at all. If I can keep the pregnancy a secret till after I know if the child is Fisher’s or not, he may never have to know that I thought he could potentially be the father of my child.
Fisher would say it’s a selfish choice on my part. I also haven’t told him that I want to keep it a secret. Since he obviously told Whiskey, it’s bound to come out sooner rather than later. After how things went down between Fisher and me, I’m not exactly geared up to have the conversation with Death.
Yara narrows her eyes on me as I stomp to the bathroom. I stack my clothes on the closed toilet seat and turn on the water. I’ll take the test after I wash my hair.
The bathroom door opens, and I twist around to see Yara with her arms folded over her chest.
“Excuse you.”
“Take the test.”
“What were you doing, standing outside of the door listening to hear if I was peeing on the stick or not? That’s creepy. You need to get help for that.”
“I love you. You’re my little sister. I want to know the results damn it. Whiskey made me swear I wouldn’t open my mouth because he told Fisher he’d keep it to himself, but then Mom told me sooooo,” she drags the word out, waving her hand toward me in a ‘get it over with already motion.’
“Okay, but you can’t just barge in on me like this. What if I was taking a shit or something?”
“Would you piss on the stick already,” she screeches.
“Yeah. After my shower, crazy pants. Now get out.”
“Ugh.” She stomps her foot but leaves.
I should get it over with, I suppose. I turn the shower back off, so I don’t run all the hot water out. I mean it’s not a big deal. It’s only a plastic stick. A stick that can change my entire life depending on the test results. I gulp and move my clothes to the sink, then I open the package.
“Well. Don’t keep me waiting. Mom will be here any minute.”
“You can’t tell her.”
“Oh shit. You’re pregnant,” Yara yells so loud I’m sure Whiskey’s grandparents who live next door can hear her.
“What the hell am I going to do?” Tears well up in the corners of my eyes, spilling over the brims as I clutch the plastic stick bearing two pink lines. I’m pregnant and have no clue if this baby belongs to Death or Fisher. My father will kill them both.
“I don’t know. What do you want to do?”