6. Iris

With a trembling hand, I reach for my cell phone, dialing without thinking.

My eyes are on the array of pregnancy tests in front of me.

It rings, then Jenni picks up. "Hey, Jenni."

"Hey."

"Can you cover me tomorrow? I… don't feel well."

She snorts. "Why?"

"Stomach… issues," I say in a tone that makes it sound like a question.

"Like what? Flu?"

"No. Just. Not feeling well," I say with all the coherence I can muster.

Jenni sighs. "Well, if it was anyone else, I'd ask if they were pregnant but… I know for a fact you don't date. So. Feel better soon."

"Yeah. Thanks," I mutter.

She hanks up the phone.

Leaving me alone with my thoughts.

And the tests.

There are fourteen in total. Fourteen pregnancy tests that I drove two hours to get.

I didn't want anyone to recognize me.

Fourteen tests.

That I took over the course of seven hours.

Two per hour.

And they all have the exact.

Same.

Result.

If it was anyone else, I'd ask if they were pregnant.

It's funny. As a woman in my mid-twenties, that is what usually happens the second I say I'm not feeling well. Headache? Must be pregnant. Feeling sad? Pregnant. Skin issues? Pregnant.

I never thought that it would be true.

I can't have kids.

I will admit, Thorne and I have had a lot of sex.

Like. A lot.

It's only been eight weeks since that day in the Oakwood Café. I can confidently say we've been on zero actual dates since then.

But we've had sex pretty much every single day.

I hadn't worried about pregnancy. I'm not on birth control, because I didn't think I had to be but…

Fourteen tests.

Fourteen.

I am most definitely pregnant.

I'm still staring at them when the next worst thing happens.

"Hey sweetheart, hope you're hungry. I grabbed us…"

I spin.

Like a total dummy, I had set all the tests out in front of me on my living room table. I hadn't exactly forgotten that Thorne was coming over tonight.

But I hadn't exactly remembered it either.

So the second he opens the door, I start to scramble to pick them up. I grab tests one through ten, but there are four more sitting out.

Four more that his eyes go straight to when he walks in the door, which I stupidly left unlocked.

Because who locks their doors in Oakwood?

Thorne looks at me. He looks at the pregnancy tests on the table. He looks at the ones in my hand.

"Iris?" he asks, his voice almost shaky. "What's going on?"

"Um."

"Are those pregnancy tests."

"Yes?" I say.

"Yes, they are, or yes, you think they are?"

"Yes, they are."

Thorne steps inside, the door shutting behind him. I can't read his face, but I know that this is not good.

It's definitely not excitement. It's not any of the things that I thought a nice guy like Thorne might think, upon seeing a multitude of pregnancy tests near the woman he's been having wild sex with.

"Oh. I see," he says.

"Yeah. They are."

"Are you pregnant?"

I take a deep, deep breath. I haven't actually said it out loud yet.

"I am."

He glances up at me. "When did you know?"

I gesture down. "Right now."

"No. When did you start feeling… pregnant?"

"Well. I didn't feel pregnant. I felt nothing, except my boobs were a little swollen. Then I missed my period. Then, I missed it by a lot of days. The number one symptom of a missed period is pregnancy. So I got a bunch of tests, to make sure there weren't any false positives. Then I took two every hour, because your hormone levels can fluctuate through the day, or at least they can with animals. Now it's been seven hours and fourteen tests and I, um… I'm pregnant."

The words feel heavier than they should.

Thorne looks down at the tests. He looks up at me.

And he says the absolute last thing that I ever thought he would say in this situation.

"I didn't know you were seeing other guys," Thorne says darkly.

My mind stumbles over his words. They're so outrageous, so out of place, that it honestly takes me a minute to understand what he's saying. "What?"

"We didn't talk about it, I guess. But I had kind of assumed you weren't seeing other guys," he repeats. His voice sounds deep and brusque. Kind of robotic.

Like he can't believe it either.

"Thorne. I'm not seeing anyone else," I say slowly.

He shakes his head. "That's not possible."

"Listen. It is possible. I don't know what your condition is that you can't have kids, but whatever it is, there was obviously still a chance," I say, gesturing to the multitude of pregnancy tests that are punctuating this conversation like exclamation marks. "Clearly, you can have kids. Because I'm pregnant."

"No. It's impossible," he says darkly.

"It's not impossible," I snap. "I have fourteen tests to prove it, Thorne. They all say the same thing."

"It's not mine."

Anger bites at my throat. How is he being so… stubborn right now? "Thorne. I'm pregnant. With your baby," I say.

Putting the words into the world feels…

I sit down.

It makes everything feel more real.

"You can't be pregnant with my baby, Iris. Stop lying to me," he growls.

I look over at him.

He's angry.

Like, really angry.

It changes his face. Thorne has sculpted cheekbones and harsh angles, but right now, they're more than just harsh.

They're severe.

"I'm not lying to you," I whisper. The familiar feeling of rejection, of feeling like I'm trying to say something that no one understands, is rising up. The anger slowly fades, leaving the anxiety and frustration in its wake.

"Stop. Lying," Thorne snaps.

"Thorne. I'm not lying. This is your baby. This is…"

"No. Iris. It isn't."

His words are sharp, and I flinch.

"Don't lie to me. Don't ever fucking lie to me," he growls.

"I'm not."

He stands, abruptly. He looks down at the tests.

"Don't call me. Don't ever talk to me again. Good luck, Iris. I hope whoever the father is, he's a good one."

Then, he leaves.

For a while, I sit in shock.

I can't believe what just happened. My mind keeps going through it, over and over again, completely unable to process it.

Thorne thinks I'm lying.

He thinks the baby isn't his.

Thorne thinks I'm lying.

He's gone.

He's gone.

That's what hits me the hardest. Tears, finally, fill my eyes. I gasp as a choking sob rises in my chest.

Then, I cry.

I can't help it.

I tuck myself into a tiny, tiny ball. My knees curl protectively around my stomach. I sob and cry until I'm a mess. Until my stomach hurts and my head hurts, and I can't freaking breathe.

I cry until I have nothing left.

I'm shivering on the couch when I feel something small next to my face. I snuffle, opening my eyes.

The ermine is there.

Blinking at me.

"Hey," I whisper.

The ermine's nose twitches.

"No. I'm not alright. Thanks though," I say.

This is crazy. Not only am I pregnant. Not only have I just been abandoned by the father of my baby.

Now, I'm seeing things.

Because there is no way that an ermine, one of the most shy, most reclusive animals I can think of, is sitting here right now.

Staring me in my face.

It blinks again.

"I'll be okay," I whisper. "I just need…"

I don't know what I need.

I shut my eyes and tuck myself closer. There's a soft pressure on my hip, and when I look down, I see a little brown and white ball.

The ermine.

He's tucked himself into a little circle. His eyes are still staring at me, and if I were assigning emotions to an animal, I'd definitely say that he looks concerned.

His body, though, is warm. It radiates heat in a little circle, perfectly perched at the top of my hip.

"Thanks," I whisper. I shut my eyes again. I'm exhausted, and instead of fighting it or trying to do something for myself, I just want to sleep.

Maybe I'll wake up and not be pregnant.

Or something.

That isn't true, but the lie soothes me. I drift off to sleep, my heart shattered around me.

But at least there's a small, warm ball of fur on my hip to keep me warm.