Page 65 of Three Pucks and a Baby

Besides the symptoms, there was the fact I had fucked three men a month ago. Threeyoungmen whose swimmers were in the Olympic Gold phase. I mean, vitality was why Sperm Banks targeted college campuses for donors.

“No…Oh God, no,” I muttered.

Just the act of speaking caused me to sprint out of my home office and across the hall to the bathroom. When I finally stopped heaving, I staggered back to my bedroom and collapsed onto the bed.

As I stared up at the ceiling, I tried talking myself down from the ledge. We’d used condoms. Lots and lots of condoms. We were overly protected, right?

Ever heard of a condom breaking, Viv? Not to mention that only abstinence is 100% effective.

“Oh God,” I moaned again.

My self-deprecating tirade was momentarily interrupted by my phone ringing. Rolling over, I grabbed my phone off the nightstand where I’d left it so it wouldn’t distract me while I was writing.

When I realized it was Carlee FaceTiming me, I groaned. I knew better not to answer. She would just keep harassing me until I did.

With a resigned sigh, I swiped right. “Hey.”

Carlee’s eyes bulged. “Jesus, Viv. You look horrible.”

“Thanks.”

“I’m sorry. You just took me by surprise.”

“It’s fine. I can assure you that I feel just as bad.”

“Listen, I’m taking my lunch break to come see you.”

“No, no. That’s not necessary.”

“Yes, it is. I think you might need to go to the doctor for what you have.”

You have no idea.

“And considering how bad you look, I think I need to drive you.” Leaning over, she started typing furiously on her computer. “I’m searching for the closest urgent care as we speak.”

It’s not Urgent Care I need–it’s my OBGYN. “Carlee, wait–”

She shook her head. “Nope. You’re not getting out of this.”

“Will you just listen to me for a minute?”

Her fingers froze on the keyboard. Tearing her gaze from the computer screen, she stared expectantly at me. “What?”

“I need you to come, but instead of taking me to Urgent Care, I need you to get something for me at the store.” When she opened her mouth to protest, I said, “I need a pregnancy test.”

If the situation hadn’t been so dire, I would’ve busted out laughing at the expression on Carlee’s face. “Did you just say apregnancytest?”

“Yes.”

“Vivian Whitlock, are you pregnant?”

Sighing, I replied, “I won’t know for sure until I take the test.”

“Holy fucking shit!” Carlee blared.

“Ms. Flannery!” someone chided Carlee to which she rolled her eyes. “Prude,” she huffed under her breath.

“Listen, I can’t talk long because I feel like I’m going to puke at any moment. Can you please get me some tests?”

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