Page 53 of Flirty Thirty

20

Maybe Baby

My bathroom mat has been trampled down from fluffy to flat within the last twenty minutes. All I’ve done is pace and pace in my Cozy King pajamas and stare at the blue box on the counter, occasionally talking to myself.

It’s been one week since I packed my bags and came home. One week since I Cooper and I made love in the hot tub. One week of tossing and turning every night before breaking down and begging him to come over just to sleep in my bed. He was so sweet about it, too. One night he showed up at around four, his hair disheveled and his eyes droopy. He pressed a sleepy kiss to my forehead and used me for a crutch as we climbed up my stairs and fell on the bed. He was out within a minute. I followed almost immediately after.

“It’s okay,” I tell myself for the tenth time. “It’s fine. I don’t feel sick, my boobs aren’t sore, and I’m not experiencing any cravings that are outside of the norm. I’m just being paranoid.”

Kat rubs up against my bare ankle, and I stop my pacing and lean against the counter. My mirror self looks like she’s gone through the ringer, and I’m too fidgety to even try to fix my hair or adjust my clothes. It’s not like I have to look like a rockstar to pee on a stick anyway.

“There’s no signs of a bun in the oven,” I tell myself again. “Well… other than the obvious one.”

I’m only a day late, but a one day delay is one day more than I’d like, especially after my birth control brain fart.

I shift my weight onto my other leg, clenching them together a little to keep all the water and orange juice I drank in there until I get the guts to rip the box open. Okay… there are only two answers here. A negative result means I can breathe again. Cooper and I can have some fun in the new romance stage and I can slowly dip my toes into something more. I just got past my qualms aboutthat.So a positive result would mean…

I swallow hard, hanging my head and watching Kat try to squeeze her way through my ankles. She’s purring hard, and I wish I could say that was helping, but my nerves are way too shot to calm down even for a comforting kitty.

“Okay…” I say. Maybe speaking it out loud will make it sound better. “If it’s positive, I’ll go to the doctor and make sure. Just one step at a time. No panicking.”

A rush of warm, heavy pressure plummets in my lower belly, and I jam a hand between my legs, but there’s no stopping the force of a full bladder. My shaking hands fumble for the box, tearing it open and grabbing the stick, which is also in a wrapper. But with slick, sweaty fingers, a nervous heart and an overflowing bladder, I can’t get the darn thing open. A hiss slips through my teeth as my thumb slips and slices on the wrapping. I start bouncing on the balls of my feet, biting the edge of the wrapper and tearing through it just in time for me to yank down my pants and let loose.

Hmm… maybe waiting until you’re about to explode is the key to feeling relief when taking a pregnancy test.

My doorbell rings right in the middle of my business, and Kat runs through the open bathroom door and ducks under my bed. I hope it’s just UPS.

As I’m setting the stick down on the counter and searching for a Band-Aid, the doorbell goes off again, followed by a few knocks. I let out a huff and check the box. Two to three minutes for results. Well, whoever’s at the door has impeccable timing. I run a brush through my hair and jog down the stairs and peek out the peephole.

It’s Holland… and she’s running a hand over her cheek like she’s wiping away tears. My fingers quickly close over my lock and flick it open.

“Hey,” I say as I swing the door open. “What’s wrong?”

Holland’s red, watery eyes meet mine briefly before she drops them back to her feet. “I…” She sniffles and my heart plummets into my stomach.

“I… I left Warren.”

21

Best Buds and Hugs

Holland brings her long, dark ponytail over her shoulder, playing with the ends of her hair as we sit with Tom and Kat on my couch. Her crestfallen face hasn’t had a flicker of a smile on it in the past few hours, even when she asked me to make her laugh, tell her funny stories, do anything just to make her not feel so heartbroken. I couldn’t, though. I didn’t have an ounce of humor in me. So I got her one of my cats and silently prayed for her.

“I don’t want to go home,” she says, dropping her hand from her ponytail to Tom’s fluffy back. “I don’t want to face him.”

“What happened?” I watch her shake her head. “Holland…”

“This pregnancy…” She gulps away another round of tears threatening in her eyes. “We’ve both just become such different people. We’re mostly fighting, and I feel so sick and horrible, I just need someone to understand and all he does is pester and hover and I… need a break.”

“How long of a break?” I ask. They’ve been together over ten years. Even though I’ve seen them fight and I’ve heard Holland complain about things losing their spark, I still believed they loved each other.

She lifts one shoulder, shaking her head, her mouth open like she’s at a loss for words. I quickly lean forward, setting a hand on hers, her fingers unusually warm for her. Holland’s always complaining about being cold.

“Why is he being so… controlling?”

“Do you know how long it took to get pregnant?” She brings her eyes up to mine, and I shake my head. “Four years.”

“What?”

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