Page 23 of Never Really Mine
“I have never had second thoughts. You’re the one that ran that morning. You’ve avoided me for two months, Marley.” His voice is strained. “Are you late?”
“I don’t have a regular cycle.” I don’t have the mental means to try to explain to him that I only get a period once every three months due to the birth control I take. Tears well in my eyes. “I need to go home. Sleep this bug off.”
Beau nods, but I can tell he wants to say more. He watches me closely as I lock up the studio, turning the lights off as we leave. Instead of fighting him on letting me drive, I let him open the passenger door to his vehicle, helping me in and making sure I’m buckled before he closes the door.
The uncomfortable silence drags as Beau drives. I lean my head back against the headrest, letting my eyes close. I’m so fucking tired.
I feel the car slow to a stop, and my eyes flutter open, expecting to see my small twin home in front of me, only to see the glowing lights of a chain drugstore. “What are we doing here?” I ask, turning my gaze to Beau. He stares straight ahead, face a blank slate.
“I…would you take a pregnancy test? I was already planning on stopping to get you some ginger ale, and other things, but since we are here…” He takes a deep breath. “All the symptoms and timing add up, so I thought maybe it might be a good idea. You can say no. I trust your judgment. You know your body best.”
I nod, knowing he’s completely right. “Yeah. I’ll take one.”
He nods in response as he climbs out of the car. Panic squeezes my throat, fear that he might see someone we know in the store. “Use the self checkout!” I call.
Mind whirring, I try to think back to the last time I got a period and if the timing would line up. Then I think about my birth control, did I really take it every day? Did I miss any days?
I wrack my brain. When I got home and unpacked from the wedding, I couldn’t find my birth control pack, but I shrugged itoff, and opened a new one. Where did the other one go? The fact that I can’t remember is startling. I am always on top of my pills.
Tears begin to stream down my face, because I really could be pregnant. With my best friend's baby.
The man himself strides out of the small drug store, a plastic bag in his hand. He looks as cool as a cucumber in his flannel jacket and jeans, not minding the late fall cold. The only thing that gives away the potential stress he feels is his hair. He must have pulled it into a bun during his time in the store, but it’s already falling out in places, likely from being tugged on.
I’m full on crying now, because I don’t want to cause him any more stress than I already do. I know that I’ve avoided him since Josie and Andrew’s wedding. But I’ve also avoided everyone. I’ve dug myself into a deep hole, only ever being this low once before.
I don’t let myself think of that night though. Instead, focusing on now. Whatever that test says, I need to man up and talk to Beau. I need to apologize for blowing him off like that.
Beau hops into the car, instantly seeing my tear streaked face. “No, don’t cry, Mar. It’s okay. Whatever it says, it’s going to be fine.” He reaches over, cupping my cheeks, wiping away the tears.
How is it possible that even after treating him like shit for two months after we had sex, and being rude as hell to him in the time before, that he still cares for me?
I shudder, dropping my head to his chest over the center console. “I’m sorry.”
“Stop,” he murmurs. He kisses my cheeks, the top of my head, anywhere he can. He takes my cheeks again, pulling me off his chest. “Marley, no more running from me. I can’t take it.”
I nod, gasping as he holds me close again.
“Let’s get home, yeah?” he asks. Shakily, I pull away from him, settling back into my seat as he drives out of the parking lot toward my house.
If it wasn’t an inanimate object, I’d swear that the box inside that plastic bag was mocking me for my errors, and certainly losing the best person I have in my life. What will happen if I’m pregnant? What will happen if I’m not?
I can’t think about all the plausible outcomes now. There isn’t enough time in the world for that.
Beau reaches his hand across, grabbing mine from where I was gripping my sweats in between my fingers. He doesn’t say anything, just squeezes my hand three times.
When we get to my house, I get out of the car, and try to dig through my bag for my keys, but Beau is already unlocking the door with his extra set. I’ve locked myself out of my house a few times, so I’ve made sure that he, and my parents all have an extra key.
Walking into my quiet house, I flick on a few lights, immediately running to the bathroom as another bout of nausea overtakes me. Beau runs after me. I attempt to close the door behind me, but he beats me, pushing through it as I crouch down, trying to hold my hair back as I vomit.
Nothing comes up, just bile, and the bit of water I’d drank in the car. I startle when Beau’s hand rests on my back, the other gathering my hair in his hands. He soothes me softly, all while rubbing my back. When I’m done, he gets a washcloth from the drawer, wetting it with cool water and placing it on the back of my neck.
I take my time standing, allowing myself time to catch my breath. Beau speaks before I can. “I think that before you take the test, we should talk.”
“Okay,” I murmur. “I’ll meet you in the living room.”
I wash my hands, and instead of heading right to the living room, I take a detour to my second bedroom where my suitcase is stored. I have to search it and see if the old birth control pack is in there. I have to know.
I grab it from the closet, immediately unzipping it and digging through the inside pockets. When there’s a crinkle of plastic, my fingers start to shake. I grab the packet, pulling it out of the zippered pocket. Inwardly, I die a little, because the packet isn’t empty. There’s four pills left. I have the twenty-one day pack, so it’s not even like I’ve missed four days of placebos, which wouldn’t mean anything. I missed four actual days.
