Текст книги "Wet"

Автор книги: Ruth Clampett

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Текущая страница: 7 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

Chapter Eight

SPIN CYCLE

I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I can’t stop thinking about her. Something about the idea of Elle in Maui is the sharp snap of a match being lit. I feel the wave of heat every time I think of her with him and it burns.

What if she really is in love with the Viking? I haven’t heard from her in three days. I start second guessing my decision not to sleep with her when I could have.

I can’t stop myself from imagining all the ways I would take her on the beach in Maui, rolling over the dunes and fucking her slow until every inch of our bodies was covered with sand. I’d drive her over the edge with the pounding waves drowning out our moans.

For hours after we would shake the sand out of our hair, and feel the burn of sex on our skin. I can almost smell the salt and faint whiff of coconut simmering off her warm body.

Just when I think I’m going to start shopping for airline tickets to the islands to steal her away from him, she texts me.

I can’t even Paulie . . .

What does that mean exactly?

I wish she’d called instead of texted. I really miss hearing her voice and all her little sighs.

I’m really relaxed and so tan, the most glorious bronze tone. And all this swimming has done wonders for my thighs and my ass is so tight . . . I may never return to the mainland.

I guess the trip has loosened her up again to toy with me.

Don’t be such a tease.

But I like teasing you.

Is that how it is? That’s cold.

No it isn’t . . . it’s hot. And furthermore I went and bought a teeny tiny white bikini today and I’m pretty sure I have never, nor will ever, look this good again. So you don’t just like me, if you could see me you’d want me. Badly. I’m certain your resistance over screwing me would crumble.

It’s hard to say if I would’ve crumbled since you aren’t around to show me.

Take my word for it.

Pictures or it never happened.

How can I shoot a full-length picture of myself? If I ask Stephan he will get suspicious.

Have you ever heard of those magic pieces of glass called mirrors? They work astounding well for full-length selfies.

Of course! What was I thinking! Give me 5 . . .

I pace back and forth across my living room until my phone finally pings. My fingers tremble as I press on the tiny jpeg of her and wait for it to go full size.

Oh. My. God.

I fall back into the armchair and brace my arms so I can study this picture indefinitely.

She texts when several minutes pass with no response from me.

Well?

You’re right.

About what specifically?

It’s a good thing you aren’t here.

Because . . .

That tiny bikini would be in tiny shreds on the floor.

Sigh. That’s so hot Paulie.

Well, you’re seriously hot. Surely you know this.

Mmm maybe. But I really like hearing you say it.

Something about the flirting in her texts is making me wild. It’s bad enough that just looking at her bikini shot has me all worked up, but her teasing has resulted an epic hard-on. It’s frustrating because I have to keep stopping fisting it to reply to her texts. Thank God for voice command on this phone, ’cause I want to just close my eyes and imagine her straddling me with her tits in my face as she grinds over me.

Hey Paulie . . . will you swim with me in the ocean sometime?

I’ll swim with you anywhere if you wear that bikini.

I wish Stephan was fun like you.

I’m glad he isn’t. It makes me extra awesome.

I’ll say. Do you know what he’s doing right now?

On another business call?

No, he’s following the room maid around supervising her work. He’s done it every day. It makes me want to scream.

I bet. But I don’t want to talk about him, I want to talk about you.

I also want to tell her how much I miss her but that wouldn’t be cool considering everything.

Hey, Paul, I know we’re just friends and all but will you be looking at my hot bikini picture later when you get off?

I swallow hard. She knows me so well.

What makes you think I’m not looking at it and getting off now?

Are you?

Yes.

Pictures or it didn’t happen.

Use your imagination.

Believe me, I am.

Time for me to finish what you started, naughty tease.

Me too. Xoxo

I remember that she mentioned an important set of meetings in the following week so I’m assuming she’s back home, unless the Viking pulled a fast one. I keep hoping she’ll call or send me more dirty texts, but nothing. So on Tuesday I drive by her house early evening and don’t see any sign of her, but when I do the same Wednesday I see her on her porch with a watering can, moving from one flower pot to another.

She must have just come from work because she’s wearing one of those tight business-like navy skirts and a white fitted jacket thing that shows off her golden tan. I let out a long sigh and either I’m having a caffeine reaction, or my heart is racing just at the sight of her. I roll down the window and lean my head out.

“Hey lady! Haven’t you heard we’ve got a drought going on?”

She holds her hand up above her brow to shield the sun until she spots me.

Grinning, I wave.

She puts her hand on her hip and shakes her head. “Mr. Sprinkler is chastising me about using water?”

I park and step out of my car. “So what if I am?”

“You want to come regulate me, Mr. Official Guy?”

“Maybe I will.” I amble up to her front porch and flash a pretend harsh look. “How much water have you used with this activity?”

“Ha! Not enough!” she exclaims as she steps closer and tips her can in my direction. “You know what? You’re distracting me, and when I’m distracted my aim with the watering can isn’t so good,” she says with a flirty side-glance.

I pretend not to notice that’s she’s watering my feet and before she’s figured out my plan, I try to wrestle the can out of her hand. The resulting struggle creates a splash that soaks the front of her jacket.

I expect her to shriek and jump back, but instead she slowly unbuttons her jacket and opens the front, revealing the sheer white blouse she’s wearing underneath. We both stare at each other and then down at her chest as the water that splashed down her neckline does its magic.

Hot damn. If this were a wet T-shirt contest, she’d win, hands down.

I can’t help but stare with a lascivious grin.

“You like that, don’t you?” she asks with an arched brow.

“You bet I do.”

She nods her head toward the front door. “Wanna beer?”

“Sure.”

As I follow her I’m mesmerized by how good her curvy hips look in that skirt, and the click of her high heel pumps on the wood floor. “Is that how you dress for work?”

“Yes, I’ve just come from a meeting.”

I imagine all the business men leering at her and it pisses me off. “It’s kind of sexy, don’t you think?”

“You think this is sexy?” she asks, turning to me.

“I do—and especially now,” I say, looking down where the thin fabric is clinging to the top of her breasts like a second skin.

“Well, that doesn’t count. When the jacket is on it’s essentially a business suit.”

I shrug. “Maybe it’s just you. You have this ability to make everything look sexy.”

“So how was Maui?” I ask after settling down at her kitchen table.

“Beautiful. It was good to get away.”

I nod and glance down, resisting picking at the label on my beer bottle.

“So, was it everything you’d hoped with the Viking?”

She shrugs. “It was fine. A mix of good and not-so-good—you know what I mean?”

I nod silently even if though I really want to know what she means by that. I remember my conversation with Patrick that made me think she’d fallen in love. If that’s true she certainly hides it well.

“Did you get your sex on the beach?”

She makes a cute little face. “I had to get him liquored up and really worked into a frenzy to even get down to the beach. I was determined . . . sex on the beach has always been on my bucket list.”

I have to wonder what else is on her bucket list. Is there anything on it that I could give her?

“So you said it was mixed. What was the good part?”

She twists a strand of her long hair in her fingers. “It’s hard to explain. But something about being on the shore made me feel kind of raw and wild. It was like I was on the edge of the earth with the moonlit waves crashing at our feet. It made me feel like an animal in the wilderness. I devoured him.”

My damn cock starts to get hard imagining raw and wild Elle, which is just an abomination since the Viking is involved. Traitor cock!

“Did he like being devoured?”

“Apparently, until in my passion, I kicked up the blankets and coated him with sand. You’d think I’d set his hair on fire the way he leapt up and squealed like a little girl.”

I throw my head back and laugh whole-heartedly.

She smiles at my reaction.

“So was that the end of it?”

“Hardly. No, I taunted him then and we argued which resulted in him fucking me hard, which was really hot. It was so hot and aggressive that I got rubbed raw from the sand.”

I feel annoyed at the idea of it and hold up my hand. “Too much information.”

“Believe me, there’s nothing sexy about sand abrasion.”

“Way too much information,” I groan.

“Well, have you done it on the beach?”

“Does in the ocean count?”

“You did it in the ocean?”

“Yeah, you sound surprised.”

She sighs. “No. Just jealous.”

“Should I be jealous? You’re the one who just had a love connection in Maui.”

She looks up at me with wide eyes. “Are you?”

I shrug. “Maybe, just a little.”

Grinning, she punches me on the shoulder. “Oh you!” She settles down on the stool next to me and takes a sip of her beer. “So I want to ask you a favor.”

“Okay . . .”

“It’s a big favor—really big.”

“Do you have another burned out light bulb in some heavy ass light fixture?”

She shakes her head. “No, it’s a much bigger favor than that. I’d really appreciate it if you could take me to my bestie’s wedding this September. I mean, I know weddings are torture for dudes—”

I jump in before she goes on. “Sure, I’ll take you.”

“And it’s formal . . .” She makes a grim face like she’s really trying to talk me out of it.

“Awesome. I look hot in a tux. Besides, I love weddings!”

Her mouth falls open. “You love weddings?”

“What’s not to love? It’s a big party and everyone’s happy.”

“You’re killing me with this, Paulie. Are you toying with me? I thought all men hated weddings.”

“Not this man.” I glance over at her and watch her wiggle with delight in her seat. She appears so happy and relieved.

“Hey, so why me? Why not the Viking?”

She twists her beer bottle in her hand as she looks down. “You’re more fun.”

I’m tempted to drill her for more information but I decide to let it go. “And I’m extra fun at weddings.”

“Good, I’ll be needing fun.”

I notice the tightness around her eyes. “Yeah?”

“My ex will be there with his new girlfriend. He’s the Best Man at the wedding.”

“Oh, damn. That’s awkward.”

“You have no idea,” she says with a frown.

“Well, I’m your man. I’m going to dote on you like you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. That ex is going to be full of regret for what he lost by being an inattentive asshole.”

“You’re willing to do all that for me?”

“Yeah, I’m a good guy. Remember?”

She lets out a long sigh. “The best.”

Several weeks later I find my mind wandering during my Sex Addicts meeting when it occurs to me that Elle hasn’t mentioned the Viking in well over a week. Maybe that initial thrill of getting laid whenever you have an itch has faded. Maybe his crazy ass obsession with cleanliness has finally gotten to her.

Should I feel guilty that I’m happy and want him out of the picture?

Hell no.

Elle deserves better. She’s an amazing woman and not just because she’s gorgeous and loves sex. It’s because she’s smart, strong, straight-talking, and more fun to be around than any woman I’ve ever known.

She needs a man who appreciates all of that glory. She needs someone like me who understands her.

“Paul!” Jim calls out.

I snap to attention. “Yeah?”

“I just asked you a question.”

“Sorry, got stuff on my mind.” I look around and am stunned to realize that in my stupor the meeting ended and everyone but Jim is gone.

“That broad?” he asks like that’s a bad thing.

“Her name is Elle,” I answer with my jaw so tight that I have to ungrit my teeth. “And she’s not a broad. She’s an amazing woman.”

“Is that so? You were completely checked out at this meeting. I thought you had a handle on this, man. You’ve worked so hard to get control over your obsessive behavior. I hate to see you backslide now.”

“I wouldn’t call this backsliding.”

“What would you call it? You know what she’s about and that she isn’t what you need. Have you gone over the edge already?”

“You want to know if I’ve screwed her,” I say, my fury building. I know my rage isn’t really toward Jim, but myself. What happened to me in my life that I have to sit in this church basement with a bunch of losers wondering when they can get home to their bottles of lube and porn DVDs? I’m better than this, damn it. Surely there can be worse things than being insatiable about having a desirable woman in my bed.

He nods. “Yeah, I do. You signed up for this, man. You know very well what this program is about. Have you been able to control yourself or not?”

I fold my arms over my chest and pull my shoulders back. “No.”

Jim shakes his head and his expression looks tired. “I knew it. Can’t you see that she’s become your obsession? You’re whipped. Pull yourself together, man, before you’re off the program.”

“I’m not off shit,” I say way too loud considering I’m in a church. I feel like my head is on fire and that the rest of me is seconds away from combusting. “This is the thing, Jim. I haven’t touched her. But I want to, damn it. I want to more than anything I’ve wanted in my life.”

His expression is muddled. “So what are you saying?”

I lean over, my fists tightening as I struggle for a breath. Holy fuck. When it all hits me it feels like my knees will give out.

“I’m saying that it’s not just the sex anymore, damn it. I’m falling for her. I can’t stop thinking about when I’ll see her next. So do me a favor, don’t fucking say anything about this being wrong, because to me, everything about her is right.”

“You’re falling for her?” he asks like I haven’t made myself clear. “Maybe you’ve confused blue balls with infatuation.”

I want to punch him . . . badly. How dare he belittle what I now know is one of the biggest realizations of my life? This is a game changer. I want Elle. Yeah, I want to have all the sex with her, but for the first time in my life I want her in my arms in the morning too. I want to watch her wake up, and smile when she sees I’m there.

“Does she know how you’re feeling?”

I shake my head and the insecurity starts creeping in. What if this isn’t welcome news to her? She seems very comfortable with us being friends. Besides I’ve already rejected her too many times. “What should I do?”

“If you really think this isn’t just about screwing her and that you want something more, then you should man up and talk to her. If she doesn’t feel the same, it’s best you know now before much more time passes and you get crazy in the head.”

That night I make up my mind to take Elle to dinner to talk to her about how I’m feeling. I’m going to play it kind of cool so she doesn’t feel cornered. Even if she is afraid to be rejected again, I can give her time to ease into the idea.

Or if she feels the way I do, things could happen fast. I grin to myself realizing that this is the best I’ve felt in a long time.

I consider taking her to a nice restaurant but then decide to be low-key. When I call to ask if she’ll come with me to my favorite barbeque place in Korea Town, she seems open to it.

“Is that where you pick out all your stuff in a bowl and they cook it in front of you?” she says.

“Yup, and this one’s really good.”

“Sounds like fun. I’ve always wanted to try that.”

I’m encouraged by how upbeat she sounds, and clearly she wasn’t already booked with the Viking or a Tinder hook-up so that’s another positive. “I’ll drive. I’ll pick you up at seven.”

That evening when I get to her house there’s no answer even though her car is in the driveway. I try to call her from my cell phone but it just rings and goes to voicemail. This isn’t like Elle. Worried, I let myself in the side gate and walk to the backyard to see if she’s sitting out back and didn’t hear the doorbell. The yard is empty and my anxiety goes into over gear when I notice the French doors facing her yard are open. I approach the door cautiously and peek inside.

The house is eerily still until I hear a tiny snore. I step inside so I can walk around to face the couch. Curled up into the pillows and covered by a fluffy blanket is my dinner date. She’s so damn cute I can’t help but smile.

She also looks so peaceful that I don’t want to wake her, so instead I settle into the adjoining love seat and peruse the new stack of books on the table. I smirk as I read the back summaries. At least she’s consistent in her taste. I’m particularly puzzled by the one where the guy has one hand on his bare chest and his other hand down his pants that are half undone—although in fairness I can’t tell what he’s trying to grab. Maybe it was his keys and he missed his pocket.

I glance over at Elle who is still deep in slumber so I crack open the cover. Maybe once I start reading I’ll understand why this dude, Steele, likes to have his hand deep in his pants.

This book starts out slower than the last one. The first chapter doesn’t have any sex at all, but that all seems likely to change when Steele is released from prison after serving time for vehicular manslaughter. Well, at least I now understand why his hand was in his pants. Self love is the best choice by far if you’re in prison.

So his childhood bestie, Ricky, who happens to be a real hottie now, picks him up in her battered pick-up and agrees to let him stay at her place until he gets back on his feet. Naturally she’s a bartender by night and dancer by day.

By chapter two she helps Steele get a job doing maintenance at the dance studio although apparently he spends more time watching Ricky dance from the sidelines than actually cleaning.

By chapter three there’s still no sex just a lot of uncomfortable staring at each other’s body parts and Steele thinking dirty thoughts.

I’m really losing interest. Finally I notice that Elle left a bookmark further back in the book, and when I go to check it out it’s noticeable that the spine is loose at this section. Apparently my little vixen has read this part more than once.

And I can see why. Three pages in and my cock is wide awake. So much for Steele and Ricky being besties. I guess the ten previous chapters leading up to this one had enough tension to fuel a number of epic sex scenes in a row. Even I’m worn out by the last scene that involves dirty dancing, and shower sex so wild it sounds dangerous. I’m guessing by the fold in the page that Elle really liked this scene, too.

I glance over at her just when her eyes flutter open. From the way her eyes bug out when she sees me and her mouth falls open, I guess I’ve startled her.

“Oh my God! How long have you been here?” she asks, as she lifts herself upright. Her hair is doing a wild dance all over her head and she has the pillow’s texture imprinted on her cheek.

I smile at her. “A little while. I didn’t want to wake you, you looked so peaceful.”

“That was nice of you.”

She stretches her arms up over her head and my eyes trail down to the little patch of skin revealed where her shirt lifted. Her skin looks velvety soft. I wonder how it’d feel to touch it, even press my lips against it . . .

“I’ve been sleeping on and off all day.” She lets out a huge yawn.

I reach over and rest my hand on her cool forehead. “You don’t have a fever.”

“No, I feel fine. Just tired I guess.” She spies the book in my hand. “Hey, were you reading my smut again?”

I hold up the book. “Yeah, the ex-con one. I think I found your favorite chapter. I didn’t know you were into ex-cons.”

“I’m not usually. This one just had special qualities.” She gives me a wink. “I’m starving. Let’s go eat!”

We’re loaded in the car when she turns to me. “Hey, how into the barbeque thing are you?”

“I’m not married to the idea, why? Would you rather go somewhere else?”

“I’m craving a Double-Double something fierce.”

“In-N-Out?” I ask, scrunching my face. I immediately think of how unromantic those white Formica booths are and realize that this night isn’t going the way I’d hoped. But I look over and her face is lit up. How can I turn her down?

“Could we?” she asks with those big doe eyes. Her hair is still crazy and I reach over to smooth it down.

“Okay, sure,” I say.

She claps her hands like a kid and I grin as I pull onto the street.

I’ve never seen Elle eat like this. She’s suddenly a truck driver in a petite package. She polishes off the Double-Double, a chocolate shake, her fries, and half of mine. I finally pull the fries away. “Slow down. You’re going to make yourself sick.”

She snags another fry and waves it toward me. “Yeah, and can you believe I was throwing up this morning! Fast recovery, right?”

“What do you mean you were throwing up? Did you eat something bad?”

“I guess so. I’ve been off all week. Maybe I’m fighting a little virus or something. I just want to sleep and eat all the time.”

As I watch her drain her milkshake my mind starts to wander with disturbing thoughts. I’ve been around women enough to pick up on the myriad of weird body stuff they suffer through due to their crazy, ever-changing hormones. What she’s just described sounds like a particular combination of symptoms. Oh Jesus. Could she be pregnant? As soon as I think of it I feel like I’ve been kicked in the stomach. Is fate this big of a bitch . . . is this the worst timing in my life? The night I was finally ready to ask her for more, could be the night where her life turns another direction without me in it. My fingers tighten along the edges of the tabletop.

“What’s wrong? You look freaked out.” Her smile fades the longer I don’t answer her question.

What do I say? I pull my straw halfway out of my soda and then slide it back in several times while my head spins. At this point telling the truth is the only road worth taking.

“Could you be pregnant?”

She drops her fry. “Pregnant? No, of course not.”

“Are you sure? Birth control isn’t infallible you know.”

She folds her arms over her chest. “I’m sure. I’d know if I were pregnant.”

She glares at me like I’ve told her she was stupid or something. I wish I felt better hearing how confident her answer was.

“Okay. Sorry I said anything. Shall we?” I ask as I gather up our ravaged remains to throw away.

She nods, a faraway look in her eyes.

We’re half way out the door of In-N-Out when she turns to me. “Hey can we swing by Krispy Kreme on the way home?”

Good Lord, this woman.

Far be it from me to get in the way of her eating frenzy. “Sure thing.”

We do the drive-thru but then I decide to pull over so I can watch her devour another round of food. It’s entertaining. She keeps smacking her sugar-coated lips and she moans with each bite.

She’s halfway done with her maple bar when her mood suddenly shifts. Her eyebrows knit together like she’s trying to figure out a complicated problem. She turns to me. “Wait a minute. What’s the date again?”

“It’s the fifth, why?”

After frantically dropping the doughnut back in the bag, she rummages through her purse until she pulls out her cell phone. She swipes the screen, her fingers a blur. She looks up at me with an expression of horror and then back down to the screen.

“What?” I ask. She’s freaking me out.

“I’m a week late,” she whispers.

“Are you sure?”

She nods, tears already forming in her eyes. “Yeah, I’ve been in such a fog this week that it hadn’t occurred to me. Oh my God, Paul. What if you were right? What if I’m pregnant?” Her expression is twisted with fear like she’s suddenly trapped inside a horror film.

My heart is pounding. This isn’t how I thought this evening would go at all. She looks like she’s slipping down a slippery slope and needs something to hold onto.

I rest my hand on her shoulder and squeeze it before I start up the car. “Let’s make sure first.”

“Where are we going?” Her hands are pressed against her face.

“The drugstore.”

The whole drive she is rocking in her seat chanting, “Oh my God, oh my God,” over and over.

It reminds me of when I did this for my sister her first year of college when she was dating that asshole football player. Luckily her test came out negative. Maybe Elle’s will, too.

When we get to Rite-Aid she’s rocking so hard I’m afraid she’ll hit her head on the dashboard.

“Oh my God, oh my God . . .”

I realize that she’s in no shape to go inside. “Elle, I’ll be right back. Okay?”

She doesn’t respond, just keeps rocking.

I dart out the door and into the store like a man on a mission. I rush down several aisles before I find the potentially preggers section. With the sanitary napkins just to my right, it only takes a few seconds to be reminded that this is no place for a man. I scan the options: Early Detection, First Response, Clear Blue . . . blah, blah, blah. I grab three different choices and head to the front of the store hoping Elle hasn’t passed out in the car yet.

Why there’s a line at Rite-Aid at nine at night, I have no friggin’ idea. Yet it’s my lucky day when my Tinder trainer and pal, Gabe, gets in line behind me with a twelve pack.

“Hey, dude. How’s it going?” he asks, and looks down at what I’m holding before I have a chance to tip it away from his view.

Fuck.

I glance over to the check out stations and curse the old man in the jogging suit that’s demanding a price check.

“Hey, Gabe. I’m good, and you?”

He leans forward. “Well, well, look at that. You gearing up for daddyhood man?”

Damn it all!

“No, man, this is for a friend. I swear.”

“Sure, sure,” he says and gives me a grin.

The jogging suit guy finally finishes up. “Hey Gabe, please don’t say anything to Dad. I swear this isn’t my kid.”

He nods and pats me on my back right before I step forward.

“No worries, dude. This is just between us.”

Back in the car, Elle has added trembling to the rocking and chanting. I place the bag on her lap to buckle my seatbelt and she shoves it off onto the floor. Yeah, this isn’t at all how I thought tonight would go.

“I’m not peeing on a stick, Paul.”

“You’re going to have to, Elle. You need to know for sure.”

“I’m going to wait a few days. Maybe my cycle is off because of traveling.”

I nod. “Maybe. And you said you were really careful about birth control, right?”

“So careful. And Stephan was meticulous about it.”

“Okay, so this test is just for peace of mind. If your birth control was meticulous, then you should have nothing to worry about.”

“Right, right. We went through two boxes of condoms.”

“I really didn’t need to hear that,” I grumble.

“We even used one on the beach.”

“Awesome.” I can’t hide the sarcasm in my voice.

She takes a sharp breath. “The beach!” she wails.

I swerve to the right before gaining control of the car again. “What? What?”

“The sand, the pounding! The condom was messed up when it was over.”

I want to ask more specifics but I’m sure I can’t stomach it. I don’t need to reply though because we’ve just pulled up to her house. I rush around, open her door, and extend my hand. “Come on. Let’s go.”

She paces the living room while I tear open the first package and read the instructions. “Let’s get this done,” I say, pointing towards the guest bath. When she opens the door I hand her the stick. “Pee on this part for five seconds.”

I look her in the eyes and all I see is terror. I can’t blame her. In a few minutes her whole life could change. When the door closes I fold my arms and lean back on the wall across from the door. A nervous minute passes and all I hear is silence.

I step up to the door. “You okay?”

“I can’t pee,” she cries out.

“You’ve got to. Mind over matter, Elle. Think of waterfalls or something.”

“What?”

“Just pee, damn it!”

“Asshole,” I hear her mumble.

A minute later the door opens and she hands me the wand. After slipping the cap back on it, I lay it flat on the counter. “Okay let’s walk away for five minutes.”

She nods and heads to the kitchen. With the stiffness of a zombie she takes a bottle of beer out of the fridge, opens it, and hands it to me. It’s not hard to miss that she hasn’t taken one for herself.

“So, busy day tomorrow?” she asks.

I blink at her. She wants to talk about our schedules? Okay, I’ll play that game.

Besides, her vacant expression tells me that she doesn’t give a shit about what my day is like tomorrow but she needs to be distracted.

“Yeah, pretty busy. You?”

“Yes, I have a presentation to a new client I really want to work with.”

“Well, good luck with that.”

She chews on her thumbnail and nods toward the bathroom. “How much more time?”

“A minute and a half.” Her color is shifting to a grayish hue.

“Oh no . . . I think I’m going to be sick.”

She rushes toward the bathroom with me right at her heels. When she curls over the toilet, I sweep her hair off her face and hold it back as she hurls.

So much for that In-N-Out dinner and maple bar. At least she’s quick about it.

“You okay?” I ask as she wipes her face and flushes the toilet.

She goes to the sink and rinses out her mouth. “How much more time now?”

I glance at my watch, reach out and carefully pick up the wand, and hold it toward the light. It reveals two distinct stripes. That second little stripe indicating positive, feels like a needle jabbed in my heart. I turn away from her so she can’t see my expression. I have no fucking gameface at this point.

“What?” she whispers.

I hold up the stick. “Positive.” I feel like I can’t breath and it’s not even my kid. She wasn’t looking for this. I can’t even imagine how she’s feeling.

“Positive?” she asks in a distraught voice. I hear her choke back tears.

I nod and try to swallow down the lump in my throat. Luckily, I look over at her before she sways and then starts to crumble. I catch her just in time and pull her tightly into my arms. It breaks my heart when she presses her face into my chest and lets out a sorrowful cry. I sweep my arm under her knees and lift her up.