Chapter Five

An hour later, I've peed on three sticks and drunk enough water to drown a horse. Even when my urine must be more diluted than the tears of a soap opera star, the test still shows those two damnable pink lines.

I'm pregnant. Me.

I'm actually, really and truly, pregnant.

How the hell did this happen?

I grimace as I glare at the third stick. I know how it happened. By partaking of my favorite pastime with my husband. This is supposed to be an exciting moment. The moment most women dream about. I should be thinking up clever ways to let Ryan know that he's going to be a daddy.

Instead, I'm considering peeing on stick number four when Nikki taps on the bathroom door, then walks in with a cup of herbal tea. She glances at the three tests lined up on the counter. "The first one said it all," she says, then sits on the little padded stool across from where I'm slouched on the floor, my back to the huge, tiled tub.

"Fourth one might be a charm." I'm nothing if not hopeful.

"Are you okay?"

I shake my head. "I'm so sorry. I mean, all the trouble you had even getting pregnant, and I'm sitting here whining."

"We're different people, James." Her voice is gentle and so very rational. It's a voice I'm familiar with—I've heard her use it with her kids many, many times.

I draw in a breath, then take a sip of the tea. I don't like tea, but I'm not really tasting it, anyway. I just want to hold a cup of warmth in my hands.

"I'm not ready." The words are so soft I'm surprised she can hear them.

"No one is. Even new parents who've been trying and planning for years. No one is ever truly ready."

I snort. "Gee. What a way to sell parenthood."

"That's part of the adventure."

I draw another breath, then let it out hard, my lips buzzing. "I'm on the freaking pill. Maybe I should sue." I bend over to pick up my phone from where I tossed it on the plush rug after I'd written—and deleted—a text for Ryan to call me. "I'm going to ring Ollie. He'll know if I can sue whatever mega-corporation makes shitty birth control pills."

"Jamie."

I look up, then meet her eyes, and from out of nowhere, tears start falling down my cheeks. I'm not sobbing. I'm not hysterical. I'm just crying.

I'm just a mess.

"Ryan's ready," I say, tasting the salt of my tears as I speak. I wipe them away and blink, trying to hold back the flood. "He's so ready, but I'm just not."

"You'll get ready. And you have so many people to help you." She moves to sit next to me by the tub, and I lean against her, hating the fact that I'm scared and crying and freaking out when so many women would be jumping for joy or sighing in relief.

But I didn't plan for this. We weren't trying.

And whether or not I can get ready really isn't the point. Because I'm not ready.

And the real, honest-to-god truth is that I don't even know if I want to try and get ready.

"I still don't get how this hap—oh, shit."

I do know how this happened. It happened because of me. Ryan and I had been traveling, and somehow in all the changing time zones, I'd missed a pill. "But I realized the very next day and took it," I tell Nikki. "So that can't be the reason."

"James."

"I know. I know. Time to pull up my big girl diapers and face reality. Except I really don't want to tell Ryan yet."

I sigh. Clearly reality and I are not besties. But the truth is that when I tell him, he's going to be excited. So I can't tell him unless and until I know that I'll be excited, too. Right now, I'm not excited.

Right now, I'm numb.

Nikki studies me, then nods. "Let's watch a movie before you head home."

"That would be good. Although it sucks the kids are gone."

"The kids?" I hear the humor in her voice and have to admit the statement dances pretty damn close to irony.

"I was just thinking that if I cuddled Bradley, maybe the whole baby lust thing would rev up."

She laughs. "You cuddle with him all the time. The girls, too. Haven't seen you rushing to procreate after those snuggles."

She's right; I do snuggle with all her kids. And I love it. But those kids I can give back any time I want to.

I'm about to point that out to Nikki when my phone rings. It's Ryan, and though I'm tempted to let it roll to voicemail, I answer. Then give myself major points for being such a rational adult.

"Kitten, are you okay?"

Every ounce of oxygen leaves my body. Because how in the hell does he know already?

Except he doesn't. He can't.

"Okay?" I repeat. "What are you talking about?"

"Matthew called. Bryan Raine. And now you're over with Nikki. I can take a wild stab at your mental state."

Phone. Of course he'd know exactly where I am. And, after getting the call from Matthew, he'd know why, too.

I drag my fingers through my hair. "It's been a really strange day. But I'm okay. I thought about bailing, but decided to say fuck it, do the movie, and ride on the asshole's coattails, right?"

"That's my girl."

I glance at Nikki. "Listen. Is it okay with you if I stay here tonight? Abby popped by and we thought we'd make a girls' night since Damien and the kids are gone. You know, a movie. Wine. Pizza. The whole shebang."

"TGI Thursday?"

"Pretty much. And aren't you heading down to San Diego at the crack of dawn tomorrow anyway?"

"I am. And a girls' night sounds like just the balm you need to soothe your bad day."

"Totally," I say, feeling like a horrible, lying bitch. But I'm just not ready to face him. We finish the call, and I turn to Nikki, girded for her reaction.

"Abby? Seriously? Why—"

"I don't know. I guess it felt more legit if it was girl thing and not just a you and me thing."

"Jamie, why are you—"

I hold up my hand. "Don't," I say. "Please. Just a movie and popcorn and sleep." And because Nikki's my best friend on Earth, she gives me one final, long look. But she doesn't say a thing.