Hard(61)

My stomach flipped.

Not again.

I didn’t have time for an excuse. I rushed to the bathroom, humiliated myself, and accepted the soft words of the attendant who offered me a mint this time.

I staggered to the table just as Beth chuckled to the men.

“A children’s program. Can you imagine? She’s obviously never had a baby.”

Click.

And just like that, it clicked.

It wasn’t a good click. More like the starting gun to a new course of nausea and confusion and about a billion different complications.

No way.

Not possible.

William called my name. “Shay, are you feeling well? Maybe we should postpone the charity talk for another day. I’ll call around for representatives of like-minded programs. They might wish to meet with you for investment opportunities.”

We shook hands, but I bolted, nearly forgetting my purse at the table. I didn’t remember making it to the parking garage, and I only remembered the limo once I circled the lot looking for my car.

The humid, smoggy air did wonders.

Just because I was a little nauseous didn’t mean I was…that. I didn’t want to say it, especially since the pack of pills in my purse were part of my morning ritual…even if the time I took them shifted as I occasionally overslept…

I counted the days in my head and didn’t like the answer. So I did it again until I missed a number, found the error in my favor, and decided to stick with it until I was safe and secure and strapped into the limo.

I rapped on the glass, forgetting the driver had a speaker button. He was accommodating and dropped me at a nearby drug store, no questions asked. I couldn’t say the same for the cashier. I covered the test with a candy bar, but she still price-checked it. I should have thrown up on her pristine floors just for her snotty look.

The driver delivered me to the estate, but I wasn’t sure how to dismiss him. He accepted a flustered goodbye as I tripped over myself into the mansion and rushed into the nearest bathroom.

I didn’t recognize the blue tile.

Had I ever been in this powder room before?

It didn’t matter. I locked the door in case Zach finally decided to show up and ripped open the box. The contents flew everywhere like a piñata chalk-full of unfortunate surprises.

This was silly. I was on the pill. Even if Zach and I got a little too close for comfort without a condom, the pills worked just fine. I was overreacting, and I’d laugh about this later.

…Because I sure as hell wasn’t laughing now.

I could either sit and do my thing or use a small container to catch the specimen. Ew. I didn’t like the odds on me doing either of the requirements correctly.

I opted to sit, but the quirky diagram drawn on the inside of the box made taking the test look like Olympic gymnastics. Sit, crouch, bend, flail. I wished my hands weren’t shaking so damn much.

But then it was done, and I resolved never to speak of it again. I rested the test flat on the counter per the instructions and waited.

My cellphone rang, and I nearly swore. I read the name. Azariah. Now was the worst time to chat with her.

But my trembling fingers grazed the wrong button. The call connected. I grimaced and cradled the phone.

“Hey.” I checked the call timer. Two minutes to go. “Can I call you back? I’m kinda busy.”

Azariah had none of it. “Look, girl. You know I love you.”

Oh, Christ, she had that tone. The settle-in-I-need-to-tell-you-how-bad-you-fucked-up-don’t-you-raise-your-voice-to-me lecture. I headed her off.

“It’s fine.” The panic rushed my words out, and I wasn’t sure they spouted in the right order. “I already accepted your apology. We’re fine. Heaven can piss off, but we’re fine. Seriously. I need to call you back. It’s fine though.”

“You’re saying fine a lot.”

“That’s fi—okay.”

“Look, Shay, I still feel shitty, and I know how to make it up to you.”

A time-machine? A condom? I was so not worried about what my friends thought of my money now.

“I got your party all organized,” she said. “Forget the blowout. We’re doing what you want.”

“That’s thoughtful.” Thirty seconds down.

“We’re calling caterers and waiters. Getting the real deal here, girl. Formal dress. Linen tablecloths. String quartet.”

One minute left. “Sounds great. I gotta go.”

“I just want you to know we are happy for you. I know I am.”

“Thanks.”

“And if that step-brother of yours does it for you, then fine. We all need a little vanilla sometimes.”

Oh, I had a bit too much vanilla now. I swallowed. “Thanks.”

“Do you love him?”