“Not that kind of late. LATE.” She points at her stomach, and that’s when it hits me.
The night at Molly’s Motel. The broken condom. The vomiting.
Fuck.
I feel like I need to hold on to something: the vanity, the toilet, the wall. Ellie.
My heart is in my throat, beating with a racing urgency that feels strange enough to make me woozy. But I can’t be woozy right now. I have to consider Ellie and what she’s feeling. It’s my duty to give her what she needs.
“Get dressed,” I say quickly, thinking rapidly about what we need to do next. “I’ll meet you outside. We’ll go to the store and buy a test.”
Ellie nods, straightening and looking around the bathroom, her expression confused. I rest my hand on her arm. “Don’t worry. Whatever the result is, I’m by your side through everything. Do you understand?”
She nods and blows out a long breath, her dark eyes closing. Whether she wants to shut me out or just hide from the reality of the situation we could be about to face, I don’t know.
“Five minutes,” I say, waiting for her to breathe and open her eyes before accompanying her to the door.
As she disappears into her room and shuts it quietly, Micky returns with the water. “Where is she?” he says, glancing around the empty bathroom.
“We need to go to the store,” I say. “I’ll talk to you and Seb when we get back. If dad or Lara asks anything, just say we popped out for last-minute supplies for a presentation.”
“What kind of supplies?” he asks.
“I don’t know. Make it up.”
I brush past, planning what I need to do; find my black joggers, sneakers, and shirt; dress; sort out my messy hair; grab my keys, phone, and card; make it down the stairs without bumping into anyone.
Ellie’s already by the door, waiting. We exit the house in silence, head over to my car without discussion, and make it halfway to the store before either of us says a word. My mind is a tangle of thoughts and feelings, panic, and excitement.
Is it stupid that I feel excited about the possibility of Ellie being pregnant with my child?
I glance over at her, finding her fingers clutching her purse so tightly her knuckles are white. She looks so adorable in her cream sweater and joggers set with her hair tied into a messy bun. I just want to pull her into my lap and kiss the fuck out of her.
“Are you still nauseous?” I ask eventually. “You can open the window if you need fresh air?”
“I’m okay,” she says.
“I have water.” Tugging open the glove box, I grab a bottle and hand it to Ellie. She takes it and sips it slowly.
“My mouth tastes horrible,” she whispers.
“Drink a little. Not too much in case it makes you feel worse.”
I tap my fingers on the steering wheel, the buzzing in my body needing an outlet. The closest store that’s open this early is still another five minutes away.
Ellie lowers the bottle from her lips and stares out of the window blankly. Just a few hours ago, we were as intimate as two people can be, but now I feel like I’m a million miles away from her with a wall as tall as the sky between us. I wish I was better at understanding what she needs from me. I wish I had the empathy that Micky has or the ability to make her laugh like Seb. Sometimes, I feel a few steps outside the connection that the four of us have, a little less anchored by our relationship. But I can’t let that affect how I deal with this situation. I know that what happens in the next few minutes could be remembered forever.
“There’s a bathroom in this store. I think you should take the test there rather than at home.”
“Okay.” Ellie keeps her gaze fixed on the street and her grip tight on the water bottle.
I grit my teeth, imagining what it’s going to be like to go into the store and buy a pregnancy test. This isn’t something I’ve ever even thought about doing, but I won’t leave it to Ellie to make the transaction. I’m not sure she could do it without breaking down.
When we arrive at the store parking lot, I find a vacant space as close to the main entrance as I can. Jumping out of the car, I jog around to Ellie’s side to open for her, but she’s already halfway out when I get there. Her eyes seem a little bloodshot, but I haven’t seen her cry.
My hand itches to reach out for her, to grasp her hand or hold her around her shoulders. I just want her close and for her to feel my steading presence. But she hugs her arms around herself like a shield, and I know she doesn’t want to me to touch her. If nothing else, I’ve learned Ellie’s body language well over the past few years.