Before I can second-guess myself or make any more excuses, I dial.
“Mom?” I cry when she picks up the phone. “I’m scared…and I need help.”
I’m late.
Ten days late, to be exact.
I’ve been on the pill for the past nine years, and my periods have always come like clockwork—until now.
I could have taken a test days ago, but I chose to wait instead.
I think that was my first clue that I’m not ready for this to be happening.
I just don’t understand how that’s possible, when I’ve orchestrated my entire life to get me tothisprecise moment.
I’m a successful attorney…if you measure success in dollars, not passion.
I’m engaged to a brilliant, handsome man who wants to build a home and a family with me.
We might even be having the baby I’ve always wanted.
So why the hell am I so scared?
I glance at Jeremy, sleeping beside me in bed. Things have been good between us lately.
I mean, it’s not like henevergets moody. But work’s been going well for him, and that helps. Also, he set some boundaries with his mom recently, which seems to have made him less stressed. He finally got so fed up with her taking control of our wedding plans and inviting distant relatives he “couldn’t care less about,” that he cancelled the reservation he made at The Plaza. Which means that now, we can have the Beachwood wedding I’ve always wanted.
It's nice being on the same page.
After our disastrous trip to New York over the summer, it took three weeks of no sex and countless arguments for him to realize what an ass he was being. I suspect my telling him I wanted to go home to my mom’s for a weekend and “think about things” was a major wake-up call for him.
Suddenly, he was the Jeremy I fell in love with again. Funny. Thoughtful. Adoring. He sent roses to my office. He went online and ordered the latest romance novels from all of my favorite authors. He bought me expensive lingerie, and left me without a doubt in my mind about his burning desire for me.
I didn’t need the gifts. I only wanted him to defrost, which he did. And then some.
Now things are steamy between us again—obviously.
That’s why I need to buy a pregnancy test.
I stop at the pharmacy on my way to work. My plan is to take the test as soon as I get home, since I’m always back from the office much earlier than Jeremy. That way, I’ll have time to process my feelings about the outcome—whatever it may be—before I tell him.
But now that I have the kit in my work tote, I can’t wait any longer.
As soon as I get to the office, I head into the bathroom. I’ve never had to take a pregnancy test before, so I read the instructions with shaky fingers, even though it’s pretty obvious what I need to do.
Then I do it. And I start a timer on my phone for three minutes.
While I wait, I’m consumed with worry.
Yes, Jeremy’s back to being sweet and warm with me again…but is it only a matter of time before he gets chilly?
As much as I want to believe he’s changed once and for all…so far, the evidence isn’t in my favor.
And do I really want to raise a child with a man I have to walk on eggshells around?
God, I feel like I’m going to throw up.
I must be pregnant.