Page 51 of Kneeling for Daddy
Going to be a late night, little pet
I’ll wake you when I get home
With one hand on the cold countertop, I pull open the cabinet to continue my search for the bubble bath. I kneel and move a box of tampons to reach the bottle behind it. I freeze, my eyes fixed on the box as a weird unease swells in my stomach.
I think about my period, something that rarely warrants my attention. I’ve never needed to track my monthly cycle because my pill schedule has never failed me. Never. Not once. Although before Nik, I was also a lot more cautious about using protection with the men I slept with.
Whenwasmy last period?
Based on the unopened box of tampons, not since I moved into this apartment.
Shit…
The last time I had my period was… Armenia… Maybe seven weeks ago.
“Fuck…” I exhale, dropping the box to the floor. Panic flares in my chest, making it hard to breathe. Every scenario that flashes through my thoughts is worse than the last, and I press my hands against the cool tile, trying to steady the sudden trembling of my fingers.
I grab my phone with shaky hands and text Hawk.
I need to go to the store.
The reply buzzes almost immediately.
HAWK
What do you need? One of us will go.
I fidget with the hem of my shirt, my stomach twisting again. I’m sure they’d be discreet.
Probably…
It’s two buildings over.
All four of you can come if you want but it’s “girl stuff” and I’d rather go for myself.
Here’s to hoping they think feminine products are icky.
Fine. Three of us will come with you.
We need five minutes.
I chug a glass of water. And then another. With my stomach full of liquid, I throw on my shoes and grab my purse. Hawk, Jagger, and Gunnar fall into formation—surrounding me on three sides—as we leave the apartment. Damon stays behind, standing sentry at the door.
The streets are empty, and the hum of distant traffic is undercut by the sharp snap of the three sets of boots against wet concrete around me. The twenty-four-hour pharmacy is eerily quiet—only a cashier and a single elderly customer occupy the store. After grabbing a shopping basket, I sling it over my arm and make my way down the nearest aisle. Hawk stays at the door while Gunnar and Jagger follow not far from my heels.
“A tiny bit of space would be nice,” I grumble, reaching the aisle I need. “I’m pretty sure I’m safe from the lady with the walker.” Gunnar lets out a heavy sigh and gestures at Jagger, both of them backing off a little. They hover at opposite ends of the aisle, keeping anyone from getting too close to me.
My hands shake as I pick up the first box, then the second, a third, and a fourth.Four… To be sure.One to know, one for an invalid result, one to make sure it’s not a false positive, and one for… just in fucking case.
I put the basket full of tests on the counter and slide it toward the cashier. He scans the tests one at a time, his eyes flicking between me and the three very large, tattooed men escorting me. The silence is thick, and his expression is all judgment, like he’s never made a bad decision—or fifty—regarding a condom before. I swipe my card, and he extends the receipt toward me.
Leaning closer, I lower my voice so the guys don’t hear me. “It’s too late for Plan B. Just need to know if I have to sign them all up for paternity tests or not.” I smirk—pleased with myself for making him a thousand times more uncomfortable than he made me—snatching the slip from his hand. “Thanks.”
Back at the apartment, I thank the guys and head straight into the bathroom. I drop the bag onto the counter and tear into all four boxes, lying each test side-by-side like a tiny pop quiz for my reproductive system. My hands shake as I pull the protective caps off each of them and take a seat on the toilet.
I follow the instructions carefully, peeing on each test strip and placing them flat on the counter. After quickly pulling up my pants, I wash my hands and hover over the tests. My fingers drum on the counter.This is the nerve-wracking equivalent of watching paint dry.A faint line appears on the first test, then the second. My stomach flops, and I swallow down the rising nausea as the same line appears on the final two tests. Each of them quickly grows darker into a sharp, bright blue line. All of them have the same undeniable result. I stare at them blankly, my brain struggling to comprehend what I’m looking at.
I’m pregnant…
