Page 68 of The Press Secretary's Passion
“It’ll be okay,” I murmur quietly.
“No, it will not,” he bites out. “I’m not playing games with your safety.”
“It’s not me that I’m worried about,” I tell him gently.
“I can’t protect you, and I need to make sure you’re safe.”
“I know,” I reply. “So let’s keep safe together. Safety in numbers, right?”
“I can’t always be with you.”
“I know, and I promise to be good. I’ll lock myself up in my house when you’re not with me. I won’t go anywhere alone either.”
“If I find out you’re taking unnecessary risks….” He trails off, and I wrap my arms around his shoulders.
“I know,” I assure. “I won’t.”
“You better not.”
“Aide-de-Camp Spotted with Mystery Blonde and Tongues Wag”
Chapter 20
Promises broken
Three days later
Quiet.
It’s been a quiet three days since the threat was delivered to my office. I’m actually wondering if it was a joke or a scam. Not that I would mention either of those ideas to Ryan, who is, to say the least,unhappy.
Ryan has to work late tonight, and I promised to go straight home after work. But I have other plans. It’s the first time Ryan is letting me out of his sight in three days, and I’m feeling a little stir crazy.
Not to mention that every morning, I toss my cookies like it’s my job. And then I’m just fine. When Ryan asks me what’s going on, I just chalk it up to stress. But the longer it continues, I think he thinks something else is going on. And honestly, I do too.
I haven’t said the words aloud yet, but I think I’m pregnant. Not only am I sick every morning, but I’ve been crying like… all the time. It’s so stupid. I hate crying and almost never do. Now, I’m crying at the drop of a hat.
So enough is enough. After work, I’m heading to a CVS so I can grab a handful of pregnancy tests and figure out what to do next. What I do know for sure is that whatever happens, Ryan and I will do it together.
Since the night I promised him me, we’ve been together, in every sense, even though we had to keep things under wraps for a little bit longer. Ryan and I are solid, and there is nothing anyone can say to me to make me think otherwise.
I grab my purse from the bottom drawer of my desk and sling it over my shoulder. I make my way through the offices and back through the staff lot to my car. I climb in and head toward my neighborhood.
I pull into the CVS parking lot and get out of my car. The automatic doors open, and the lady working the front counter doesn’t even look up as she says, “Welcome to CVS. Happy shopping.”
I don’t say anything. I just hurry back to the diapers and condoms aisle, where ironically the pregnancy tests are. Whoever plans the aisles for this store has a cruel sense of humor. It’s like the three stages of family planning. One, condoms. Two, pregnancy tests, because you forgot the condoms—that one is me. And three, diapers, because you forgot the condoms, and the pregnancy tests told you that you’re fucked.
Although, I’m not so sure I’d feel like my life is fucked if I’m pregnant with Ryan’s baby. Even as the world feels like it’s ending and death threats are hanging over our heads, I know in my heart of hearts I would be over the moon to have a baby with him.
If I’m being honest, I’m in love with Ryan Black. I’m in love with him and his two beautiful children, and I want nothing more than to marry him and be their stepmom and add to that family. All something I never thought I wanted, because I was so busy building my career and living my dreams while my parents were pushing me toward marriage, so I dug my heels in and refused to hear them out every time. I guess it just wasn’t the right man, because my life with Ryan is all kinds of right.
I roll my eyes at my hearts-and-flowers thoughts. What kind of sap is he turning me into? Who knew love would make me so soft?
I look back to the pregnancy test choices and realize I should have asked Grace or Cara, or I should have googled something,anything, because I have absolutely no idea which one to choose. I wonder if I should call one of my girlfriends. But then I quickly discard that thought, because then I would have to explain, and that would not be good. And besides, I’m in a goddamn CVS. This is not the place to be having life-altering conversations.
But still, I don’t know what any of the words say on the back of the box. Some sayearly testing optionsand others saymore accurate results. Are those two options mutually exclusive? I just don’t know. So, I grab one of every box on the shelves and pile them into a little basket to carry them up to the front counter.
The cashier stares at my haul wide-eyed, and I stare right back. She must see my terror staring back at her, because she chooses to keep her mouth closed and just scans the eight different pregnancy test boxes.
