Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 65054 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 325(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65054 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 325(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
When the timer goes off, though, it’s too late. I have to look. I pick up the first one. It’s the cheapest, and it has two little lines. According to the instructions, that’s a positive. I’m pregnant.
I frantically grab the second one, praying for a different result. This one uses a plus or minus sign, and that plus sign is as bright as it could possibly be. Shit. The third test was by far the most expensive, and it actually spells out “pregnant” or “not pregnant.” Third time’s the charm, and this one says, definitively, that I am “pregnant.”
There’s no room for interpretation. I can’t pretend I read the other two wrong. Three positive tests sitting in a row. It sounds like the start of a bad nursery rhyme.
“Okay,” I whisper to myself, trying to gather some courage even though none of this is okay.
I stand and wash my hands. The bathroom suddenly feels too small, especially with those things staring at me. But even in the living room, the truth follows me out.
I’m pregnant. There’s no question.
I put my hand on my stomach, then immediately pull it away like my skin is on fire. This is too weird. This can’t be my life.
It’s only been a month since Dominic and I slept together. My stomach is as flat as it’s ever been, thank you very much. I go to the kitchen and grab a bottle of water, just to do something with my hands.
I’m pregnant. With Dominic Vieri’s baby.
“Nope,” I say out loud. “I don’t want to do this.”
The walls of the apartment close in on me, so I grab my keys and leave. I don’t know where I’m going. I just need a walk to clear my head. I barely make it over the threshold of my building before the nausea hits. I puke into the bushes, then look around fast to see if anyone saw.
Blessedly, no one’s around, except for a man sitting in a black town car. He doesn’t seem to be paying me any attention, though. Small miracle.
I head off with no direction in mind. Three blocks down the street, it hits me that I can’t walk off a pregnancy. I can’t un-have sex with Dominic.
I go into my favorite corner deli, order all my favorites, and walk home with plastic bags bursting with food. Then I sit in front of my TV for the rest of the day, crying my eyes out as the weight of this reality settles over me.
I go back to work the next day. Dominic is in a foul mood, which is oddly helpful. There’s no way in hell I’m telling him about this while he’s being a dick. Still, I’m a little curious why he’s so upset. He seemed fine when we left Vegas. What could’ve pissed him off so much on a Monday?
Nina isn’t helpful. She hates covering my desk when I’m gone, and she tells me nothing out of the ordinary happened. He had his meetings and his slew of unscheduled visitors. I roll my eyes and answer a few emails on Dominic’s behalf.
An hour before the office closes, Dominic sends me an email that he needs me to go over a contract. I sigh. It’ll take me at least two hours to do. Guess I’m staying late tonight.
That’s okay, though, work makes this situation easier. If I’m buried under work, I don’t have to think about my pregnancy.
When I email back the contract, he comes out of his office.
“Thanks for staying late tonight,” he says. “I forgot to tell you, but we’ve just instituted a new policy. Anyone who stays late has to take a company car home. It’s a liability thing. Don’t try to argue.”
I narrow my eyes at him, but I don’t argue. I’m so tired, it sounds nice not to have to walk to the subway.
Apart from that, the next few days are awful. Dominic is grumpier than usual, but that’s the least of my problems. My body’s decided to revolt against me. My nose picks up smells it never has before, and they all seem to turn my stomach. I have to politely ask Nina to wear less perfume, and she stares at me like I’m crazy.
“I don’t even have on perfume,” she complains.
I go downstairs to get food one day, and I can smell every single thing being made. It’s overwhelming. I grab a sleeve of crackers and ginger ale and run out of there before I puke.
Sounds become overwhelming, too. I can hear the squeak of the rats as I walk down the sidewalk. That, obviously, does nothing for the nausea. I also feel like I’m losing my mind. I swear to God, the same black town car is parked outside my building. Someone is always inside it, and he never seems to go anywhere.