Page 83 of Clear Shot
“Maybe you should go to the doctor,” Sloane suggests when she comes by to help me set up the pantry. “You might need antibiotics.”
“I don’t evenhavea doctor,” I mutter.
“I can call mine for you. She’s really great.”
I sigh. “I feel fine right now—that’s what’s so weird.”
Sloane hesitates and her tone changes slightly. “Hana?”
“Yes?” I glance over at her curiously.
“Is there any chance you’re…pregnant?”
I laugh. “Nope. Not even a little. Aiden had a vasectomy.”
“He did?” She looks surprised. “Really?”
“Yup. He’s serious about not wanting biological children.”
“Huh. And you’re okay with that?”
“We’ve talked about adoption and a few other options. Besides, neither of us are ready right now. I think I’m going to get my master’s and go from there.”
“It might be a good idea to take a test, though, just to ease your mind.”
“Honestly, I didn’t give it a second thought. Vasectomies rarely fail.”
“Rarely, but not never.”
I shrug. “I don’t think that’s it. I’ll be fine in another few days, and if I’m not, I’ll call your doctor.”
“Okay.”
Conversation moves to other things, but now that she’s planted the seed, part of me is more than a little worried. Pregnancy would explain all my symptoms. The morning-only nausea. Fatigue. The fact that I’ve been incredibly horny—and my sore breasts.
Now that I think about it, I also haven’t had a period since… how is it that I don’t remember when I last had a period?
And how is any of this possible?
Hoping to find something—anything—that might ease my mind, I do a quick internet search and find that vasectomies are 99.85% effective. That’s a very small window for failure. Only two in one thousand men have issues, so it’s hard to believe Aiden would be one of them.
And yet, there doesn’t seem to be any other explanation for what’s going on with me.
As much as it pains me, I run to the drug store and pick up a two-pack of tests. I can’t even wrap my head around the idea that I might be pregnant. Birth control never crossed my mind because he took care of it surgically. I want children someday but not now.
Not with a new husband, a new house, a new life in Florida, and potentially starting graduate school in the fall. I can’t have a baby.
I most definitely can’t have a baby that Aiden doesn’t want.
Fuck.
I get home and hole up in the bathroom.
My bladder seems as reluctant to do the test as the rest of me and I sit there for a long time before I can actually pee. Finally, I do my business, set the test on the counter—and wait.
It’s the most excruciating two minutes of my life and then I slowly pick up the test.
Two lines.
