Page 46 of My Bestie's Billionaire Dad

"Just nausea, mostly in the morning, and some dizziness."

"Well, you know hun, those can be symptoms of... Well, it might be nothing, but could you be pregnant?"

The suggestion hits me like a punch to the gut.

Pregnant?

Hell no.

The idea is so outrageous that I can't help but laugh. But it's an empty laugh, a hollow sound.

"I... No, that's... It's not possible."

At that instant, I remember that my period is late.

It's because you've been so stressed out.

I talk myself out of it.

The woman shrugs at me and smiles as I walk down the aisle toward the nausea treatments. I grab a box of medication off of the shelf and head toward the counter. As I pass the aisle with pregnancy tests, I shake my head and continue walking.

You're not pregnant. There's no way.

I continue walking, but a nagging feeling is in the back of my mind. I stop in my tracks, staring at the candy bars and chewing gum at the checkout counter. With a sigh, I turn around and walk back to the aisle I just passed.

There they are, pregnancy tests in all shapes and sizes, staring back at me. I laugh again, but it's a nervous laugh this time. I scan the shelves, my eyes landing on a small pink box.

‘Early detection.’

I stare at it for a while. Finally, with a shaky hand, I reach out and grab the box. I walk back to the counter. I pay for my items and walk out of the drugstore, clutching my bag like a lifeline. As I step outside, I take a deep breath.

I'm not pregnant. It's not even possible.

Yes, it is, idiot.

You fucked your boss, remember?

I make it back to my apartment, continuing to repress any thought that I could possibly be pregnant. I throw my bag on the couch before heading straight to the bathroom. I rip open the box. The instructions are simple: pee on the stick and wait for the results.

I pee on the stick and put the pink cap back on.

Two minutes. That's all it takes. Two minutes to know whether my life is about to change forever or if this is a cruel joke. I set the test on the countertop and take a step back, my heart pounding in my ears. I glance at my phone, the time taunting me.

I look down at the test, my eyes glued to the little window.

This can't be happening.

Two pink lines.

I'm pregnant.

17

HUNTER

I've noticed a change in Maya's demeanor over the past few days. I can't quite put my finger on it, but she's been... different. More distant, more guarded. She's always been independent, but this feels different. It feels colder.

She hasn't looked me in the eyes in days. Every time I try to engage her in conversation, she replies in short responses and changes the subject. She is physically here, but emotionally, she's a million miles away.

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