Page 32 of Love, Luck & Clusterf*ck

She rested her head on my shoulder, and I stroked her hair. I hated this uncertainty, but I understood her point. Denial was a lovely place to live sometimes.

We sat like that with her huddled against me until the room went black and I could no longer see the clock on the wall. Then we remained there for God knew how much longer. I had no idea what time it was. I thought she’d fallen asleep, but she wasn’t breathingheavily enough for that. She was just silent.

“Do you want the light on?” I whispered.

“No.”

Her stomach growled loudly. “When was the last time you ate something?”

“I don’t know.”

“Christa, don’t do this. You have to eat. No matter what the situation.”

“I’m fine. I don’t want to.”

I sighed and reached out my leg to kick over my purse. I’d have to force something down her throat, but I couldn’t leave her to go into the kitchen. It wasn’t ideal, but at least I had my emergency sugar stash in the bathroom with us.

“How are you and Dre working out?”

“Fine, I guess.” I plopped the purse on my lap and dug out my king-sized candy bar and a bag of gummy bears. “Chocolate or chewy?” I asked her.

“Neither.”

“Force-feed it is. Not my method of choice, but—”

“Just give me the damn chocolate.”

“Well, if you insist.” I handed her the bar and waited until I heard her munching on it before giving her a hard time again. My stomach rumbled as well, but I could wait. Since I had my purse, I checked the time on my phone. Almost eleven. What? Where in the hell had the time gone? There was a text from Dre, but I put it away unread. I was there for her, not myself.

She crumpled up the wrapper and tossed it towards the wastepaper basket. It hit the wall and bounced to the floor. My eyes were becoming somewhat acclimated but not enough to see a pregnancy test result, and I really hoped she’d want that damn light on soon.

“Thanks,” she said.

“You’re welcome.”

“I have a confession.”

I suddenly recalled how she’d liked to play pranks when we were younger. It’d been quite a while, but…. “I swear to God, Christa. If you are going to tell me that this was all some early April fool’s joke, I’m going to take that bottle and shove it—”

She laughed. “No, believe me. I might be fucked-up, but I’m not that twisted. Although… that would’ve been the ultimate trick.”

“Only if you were hoping for a vodka enema.”

She laughed again, and if anything, I was glad something had lightened the mood. I couldn’t imagine what the air would feel like once she finally took that test. It could either clear so much we’d feel giddy or thicken to the point of suffocation.

“My confession has to do with that night at Wengo’s a week ago.”

Shit, I’d just thought of something else—maybe the reason she’d been so whacked out was because of all those baby hormones flying around. I kept that thought to myself as well.

“And it has to do with Mr. Lucky Necklace.”

“His name’s Stephen.”

“How do you know?”

“Long story. You first.”

Holy fuck. My insides just coiled. Was she going to tell me that she really had slept with him that night? Oh my God… what if he was the father? No, wait. It didn’t work that fast. Wait again. Why did I even care to begin with? Except if she had slept with him, then it might be really awkward whenever I did have to deal with him again. But it didn’t have to be if I didn’t let it.And I didn’t fucking care anyway.

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