Page 100 of That: Taylor & Brooks

Blake studied her friend, taking in the slight pastiness beneath her brown skin, the way she kept rubbing her temples, and the untouched food.

“Mmhmm. And you’ve been looking like death warmed over for days. What’s going on with you?”

“Damn thanks for that glowing compliment,” Taylor said dryly. “It’s nothing, gotta be a bug or something we do work in a hospital.”

“Taylor, baby, please go to hell.” Blake’s tone was flat with disbelief. She leaned forward, lowering her voice. “How long have you been feeling sick? Indulgeyour bestie.”

Taylor paused, thinking back. The nausea had started about two weeks ago, it was mild. She’d been moody, especially about food. Fatigue that coffee couldn’t touch, the headaches. She felt where her friend was going and refused.

“No, nope. Not even,” she replied, shaking her head. “It’s probably just stress from the gala coming up. Your brother’s been on edge about winning that contract. And what he would do if he didn’t.”

Blake’s eyes narrowed, her sandwich forgotten. “Uh-huh. And when was your last period?”

The question hit Taylor upside the head. She froze, her plastic cup halfway to her lips, as she mentally calculated backward. Once... twice...

“Oh my God. Oh my God,” she whispered, the blood draining from her face.

Blake’s eyes widened, and she reached for her friend’s hand. “Taylor, really?”

Taylor set her cup down with a shaky hand. “No, that’s not possible. We’ve been careful. Well, mostly careful.”

“Girlllaaaaa, you been letting my brother shoot up the club?” Blake pressed gently.

Images flashed through Taylor’s mind, that first night together after the strip club, they’d been careful. But Denver, her darling Denver, they’d been less than vigilant in their hotel suite. And since then... well, they hadn’t exactly been models of restraint.

“I can’t be. And can you please be serious? Shooting up the club. I can’t stand you.” Taylor tossed a piece of lettuce at Blake, and they laughed.

“There’s one way to find out,” Blake said, alreadygathering their trays. “Come on.”

“Where are we going?” Taylor asked, though she already knew the answer.

Blake stood, leaving no room for an argument.

“To the ER, to see Diana. She owes me a favor, and they’ve got pregnancy tests.”

“Blake!” Taylor hissed, glancing around the cafeteria. “I can’t just…”

“You can, and you will.” Blake’s tone softened as she took in her friend’s panicked expression.”

“Taylor, honey, we, I mean you need to know. One way or the other.”

Taylor closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. Blake was right. She needed to know. But the possibility... The implications.

“What if I am?” She whispered, voicing her deepest fear. “I just got divorced and now I’m pregnant.. What the hell?”

“Taylor, first things first,” Blake said, her hand firm on Taylor’s arm as she guided her toward the elevators. “Let’s find out if there’s anything to worry about. Then we’ll deal with the rest. Together.”

Twenty minutes later, Taylor stared at the small plastic stick in her hand, the two pink lines stark against the white background. Diana, Blake’s friend from the ER, had slipped them into an empty exam room and handed Taylor the test with a sympathetic smile and a promise of discretion.

She was numb. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Not now. Not with her life barely stitched back together. But there it was, two line signifying a future forming inside her before she could even name what she wanted.

“It’s positive,” Taylor said, her voice soundingdistant to her own ears. “I’m pregnant.”

Blake, who had been pacing the small room, stopped and moved to her side. “You’re sure?”

Taylor handed her the test, the evidence undeniable. “Two lines. Positive.”

“Well, damn.” Blake stared at the test, then back at Taylor, a slow smile spreading across her face. “I’m gonna be an auntie.”

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