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“Great. Yes. I can’t wait to hear about it. I’ll call you later this week. Are you back at work?”
“Tonight. I’m headed there now. Talk soon, honey.”
We disconnect and there’s a knock on the door. I stand up, determined now to move past this test tonight. I open the door and suck in a breath. Cole is standing there, big and broad, and perfectly male while holding a pregnancy test in his hand. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“There’s nothing to tell. I didn’t start my period, but the doctor said it’s probably stress but I—I just—”
He drags me to him, his eyes dark, turbulent. Worried? I don’t know. Maybe. “Are you pregnant?”
“I don’t know. I can’t seem to make myself take the test.”
He kisses me. “Take the test.”
“If I am—”
“Then you are. Then we are.”
I nod, my heart squeezing with all kinds of unnamed emotions. “Okay. I need to do this alone.”
“No.”
“You aren’t watching me pee on that strip, husband or not. You can help me watch after.”
He nods. “Okay.” He offers me the test.
I take it. “I have another one. This is a back-up.”
He kisses me again. “Hurry.”
“That’s the word of the night,” I say, my voice making this weird crackling sound. Like someone just pinched me or something. “I will.” He shuts the door.
I grab the box and this time I just do it. I pee on the stupid stick. I cover it with a tissue because I can’t look without Cole. I then wash my hands for a ridiculous amount of time and open the door. Cole’s eyes meet mine, and I feel that familiar punch of awareness between us, but it’s more now. It’s this new level of intimacy and shared nervous energy. “How long?” he asks, shutting the door.
“It should be ready now,” I say pointing at it.
“Why is it covered?”
“I didn’t want to look without you.”
“But you were going to take it without me?”
“No,” I say. “I didn’t. I was going to wait. And it says morning. It might not be accurate so even if it’s negative, we have to do this all over in the morning.”
“Take the tissue off of it,” he orders softly.
“You do it.”
He rubs the back of his neck. “Holy hell. Why are we hesitating?” He pulls me to him. “Whatever the result, I love you.”
“I love you, too. Oh God. Just look.”
He nods and we both turn and he pulls the tissue. We both stare down at it. “What am I looking at?” he asks.
I swallow hard. “Negative. No baby for us.” My eyes burn and I cover my face.
He turns me to him, dragging my hands from my face. “What are you feeling?”
“I don’t know. I think—I didn’t want to be pregnant, but now that I’m not, I feel—let down. I don’t know what I’m feeling.”
