Page 91 of The Equation of Us

I set down my pipette, taking a deep breath. Focus slips beyond my grasp as worst-case scenarios cycle through my mind. Did someone find out about us? Has something happened with the Archer Initiative? Is he done doing the whole friends-with-benefits thing with me?

Twenty minutes later, Dean appears in the lab doorway. The moment I see his face, I know something is very wrong. His usual controlled expression has been replaced by something I’ve never seen before—vulnerability mixed with what looks like barely contained panic.

“Hey,” I say, pulling off my latex gloves. “What’s going on?”

He glances around the empty lab, then back to me. “Is there somewhere private we can talk?”

I nod, leading him to the small conference room adjacent to the lab. The space is cramped, just a table and four chairs, but it’s private. I close the door behind us.

“What happened?” I ask, my own anxiety mounting.

Dean runs a hand through his hair, a gesture of agitation I’ve rarely seen from him. “Daphne called me.”

Not what I expected. “Okay…”

“She’s pregnant.”

This news hits like a punch to the chest—sharp, fast, and completely disorienting. For a second, I forget how to breathe.

She’s pregnant?

The words hang in the air between us, deafening in their simplicity. Two words that change everything.

“W—what?”

“Shethinksshe’s pregnant,” he amends. “Her period’s late. She took a test. It was positive.”

I sink into one of the chairs, my legs suddenly unable to support me. “Oh.”

“I’m picking her up in an hour. Taking her to the student health center for a blood test.”

I nod mechanically, too stunned to form actual words. Dean and Daphne have been broken up for nearly seven weeks now. Which means if she is pregnant…

“We broke up right around when it would have happened,” he says, as if reading my thoughts. “The timing works.”

“Right.” My voice sounds hollow, distant, like it belongs to someone else.

“And she said she hasn’t slept with anyone else, so…”

I nod. Force myself to breathe. “What happens now?”

Dean sits across from me, hands clasped tightly on the table. “I don’t know. If she’s pregnant, then I’ll do whatever she wants.”

“Whatever she wants.”

He nods. “Take her to get an abortion, if that’s what she wants. Or be a dad, help with the baby.”

The steadiness in his voice—the absolute certainty—makes my chest ache. Of course he’d step up. Of course he’d be there. It’s who Dean is. Responsible. Dependable. The one who never walks away from his obligations.

“You’re being very calm about this,” I say, trying to keep my own voice steady.

“One of us has to be.” A hint of his usual wry humor breaks through the tension. “Daphne’s freaking out. She’s already told James. He’s… not handling it well.”

James. Daphne’s new boyfriend. The investment banker who was “uncomplicated.”

“What about us?” I ask, the question escaping before I can stop it.

Dean meets my eyes, his expression softening. “I don’t know, Nora. I genuinely don’t know. If she’s pregnant—if I’m going to be a father—that changes things.”

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