Total pages in book: 45
Estimated words: 43540 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 218(@200wpm)___ 174(@250wpm)___ 145(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 43540 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 218(@200wpm)___ 174(@250wpm)___ 145(@300wpm)
I rear my fist back and punch him square in the nose. “That’s for meddling with my life.”
“Jesus!” he howls, cupping his nose.
“You know, I thought you were my friend. But I guess I was wrong about you the whole time. Because a friend would have known my heart was with Easton. But instead, you selfishly took two lives into your own hands and single-handedly ruined what could have been a beautiful life.”
“Cal—”
“He was the only one I wanted. Ever. It would have always been him.”
I turn around and walk away, rushing down the stairs and cradling my fist. Fuck that hurt.
***
Two weeks later. . .
I roll over on my couch and grip my stomach. Maybe a career as a martini connoisseur is not in my future. Ever since recipe night, my stomach’s been in knots. The alien invasion in my belly is real. “Ugh,” I groan and sit up. My phone dings and I reach for it, staring at another text from Tory.
Tory: Dude, stop sulking. Wanna go out tonight?
Me: No. And I’m not sulking. I think I’m coming down with something.
I refuse to admit I may have poisoned myself with a bad martini mixture.
Tory: Still? You said that like a week ago. You can’t still be sick. You hungover? WTF You told me you weren’t drinking!
Me: I’m not. I haven’t had a sip in two weeks. I’m sore and can’t keep anything down. Probably have the flu or getting my period.
Which reminds me. . .
The last time I took my pills. I skipped a week, add those three days and, shit. . . when was the last time I—
“No.” I quickly sit up. I search for my period tracker—“No, no. . .” This has to be wrong. I’m super careful with my pills. You mean the ones that were frozen shut in your car for a week?
Tory: Nice try. You can’t have the flu this long. And we’re on the same cycle.
Dare I ask when she got hers.
Me: I know. My boobs kill. I’ll probably get mine soon too.
We can’t be that off.
My phone rings. Shit. “What—”
“I ended my period last week. What’s going on?”
“Nothing. I just—”
“Haven’t gotten your period. Cal—”
“Jesus, I know! Stop.”
“You’re not—”
“Finish that sentence, and I will end your life.” Because there is no way that I’m. . . I’m. . .
“Tory!” I cry out.
“On my way, girl.”
My breakdown is a blur until Tory knocks on my door. I open the door, fall into her arms, and wince because my boobs are really damn sore. “This can’t be happening to me,” I sob.
“It’s going to be okay.”
“Tory, what if I’m. . .” I can’t even say it out loud. It’s been almost three weeks since I spoke to Easton. I said I needed time, but I’m not even sure that would fix us. I haven’t tried to reach out, nor has he. Which just tells me I did the right thing by walking away. After everything, we’re just. . . done.
“Calm down. We can only find out and go from there.” She reaches into her purse and pulls out a pregnancy test. “Let’s go, Baker. Time to pee on a stick.”
How did I get here? I mean, I know how I did, but why me? “What happens if I am?” I ask, fearing the answer.
“Then we figure it out together. We won’t know unless you soak the stick. Hey, it’s okay. I’m here for you. Ash is here—”
“Please don’t tell her about this. I don’t want her judging me—”
“Oh, shut it. Ashley would never judge you. And shame on you for thinking that. You have two of the most amazing best friends. Whichever way this turns out, we’ve got your back. Got it?”
“You two are still on probation.” I wipe at the tears soaking my cheeks. “But, yeah. I do have some pretty amazing friends.”
“Duh, now pee.” I smile and grab the box. I nervously take out the test, pull off the cap, and do as instructed. Setting it on the sink, I flush and close the toilet seat.
“So, what now?”
“We discuss the weather. Or Easton. Have you spoken to him at all?”
“No. Nothing.”
Tory nods, assessing my answer. “Do you plan to? I mean, if the test is positive. Are you going to tell him?”
So many answers float inside my head. Yes. No. Maybe so. “I don’t know. I wouldn’t even know how to feel about it, ya know? Once upon a time, I dreamt of having kids with Easton. They’d have my smile and his eyes. We were gonna have two girls and two boys and name them after our favorite things, like Rage and Merlot. But now. . . I don’t know how to feel.” I gently cup my belly. A little mini Easton could be growing inside me.
“And if you’re not?”