If I’m not: “Not Pregnant.”
Easy, right?
Well, no, not if I’m pregnant. It’ll be so far from easy, there won’t be a word that exists to cover it.
How can my whole future ride on what the outcome of a tiny piece of plastic tells me?
It feels like it should be more epic than this. Especially if I am pregnant. Something so wonderfully and terribly life-altering as this should have a bigger moment than sitting alone on my bathroom floor, waiting for a little piece of plastic to tell me my future.
How am I going to tell Jake?
I just can’t even begin to think how to broach the subject with him.
I squeeze my eyes shut. Don’t think of that now. When you know, then think of it.
How long has it been? Two minutes, I think. I should have brought my phone in with me to time it.
Should I look now? It might be ready.
I rise up on my knees to take a look, but fear sits me straight back down.
I can’t do this.
I drop my head in my hands.
I’m just so f**king scared. I know I have to know, but I don’t want to know.
No, come on, Tru. Woman up.
Taking a few deep breaths, figuring it must be three minutes by now, I close my eyes as I slowly get to my feet.
Okay, just open your eyes. Deep breath. One…two…three…
I flick my eyes open.
Pregnant
Fuck.
CHAPTER TEN
I’m sitting by the pool on a lounger, lost in my painful thoughts, when I hear Jake’s voice. “I thought you’d be getting ready for dinner.”
Instantly tensing, I turn to see him with his shoulder leant against the wall, watching me.
He looks so beautiful. Achingly so. It makes my chest tighten and hurt so badly I feel like I can’t breathe. Like I’ll never be able to breathe right again.
“Sorry, I lost track of time,” I murmur.
“Staring out at LA?” He smiles, with a forward tilt of his head.
“Something like that.” I get to my feet.
“Hey, you okay?” he asks, eyeing me as I approach.
No, I’m pregnant with our baby, Jake.
“I’m fine,” I hear myself uttering.
“You don’t look fine.” His eyes search mine. “You look…have you been crying?” he asks, straightening up. “Has something happened?”
Yes. I’m pregnant.
“No, I’m fine. I just saw one of those starving-children-in-Africa commercials, and it had me in tears by the end,” I say.
His head turns toward the blank screen of the television.
“You should donate to those charities,” I say, trying to distract his quickly working mind.
“Already do.”
How do I not already know this? Sometimes, I feel like I know everything and absolutely nothing about Jake.
His eyes meet mine. He looks nervous. Shy. I love shy Jake.
“You really are wonderful, you know.” I stroke my fingertips gently down his cheek. “You should let everyone see this amazing, caring side of you.”
“Baby, this side of me is reserved for you only.”
Overcome with love and fear, it’s quick to consume me. I can feel it spreading across my face, I wrap my arms around him, hugging him tight, pressing my face into his chest.
Jake holds me equally as possessively, resting his cheek against my hair. “Are you sure you’re okay?” he murmurs.
I nod, afraid to talk for fear of breaking down.
“I hate to know you’ve been crying here alone. I hate to think of you crying, period. No more sad commercials for you, okay?”
I swallow past the pain engulfing me. “No.” I shake my head gently.
“I spoke with Smith today,” he says, caressing my back with his fingers.
“And?” I lean back, looking into his face.
Holding my gaze, I see something shift in his eyes, and then he smiles and says, “He’s in.”
I know he’s happy. But he’s conflicted too. Feeling guilty because of Jonny.
I want to soothe his guilt in this moment, but I’m afraid if I stay in his arms for a moment longer that I’ll crack. And right now, just before we have plans for dinner, is definitely not the right time to tell him. We need time to talk this through, not a quick, By the way, Jake, I’m pregnant. Let’s go to dinner.
Later. I’ll tell him later.
I release myself from his hold. “Guess I better go get ready for dinner.”
As I’m about to leave, he catches my hand. “Tru, you would tell me if there was anything else bothering you, right?”
“Of course,” I say, swallowing past the lie.
I squeeze his hand, forcing a smile, then I walk into the living room, but I can feel Jake’s eyes on me the whole time.
“What’re you having, baby?” Jake asks.
Baby.
I’m pregnant.
Oh God.
My worry and fear have grown exponentially as the night has progressed. Being alone earlier, knowing what I know, was hard enough. But being around Jake, holding the truth in, is killing me. I feel like I’m lying to him every second I don’t tell him I’m pregnant.
I fear I’ll just blurt the words out any moment now. Focus is the key.
I will tell Jake, I just need to find the right moment, and right now is not it.
I glance up to see the waiter standing at our table. “Oh, um, I’ll have the mushroom ravioli, please.”
“Would you like wine with dinner?” the waiter asks Jake.