Page 24 of Dirty Boss


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Fuck.

I’m not going to let her go because I’m not done with her and I don’t believe she’s done with me.

Lori

I wake up and walk to the bathroom I share with my mother, who should be sound asleep in her room considering I heard her come home hours ago. I hope she is, because one look in the mirror, and it’s obvious I didn’t sleep. My eyes are puffy and bloodshot, and I hate, hate, hate, that I laid in bed replaying the night I spent with Cole, trying to figure out why I thought he was someone I should let spank me, of all things. He’s hot. He’s rich. He can have millions of women, and obviously does.

And I gave him something I liken to virginity in that spanking.

I shove off the sink with a jolt.

Virginity. Sex. Condoms. We used one but I haven’t had my period. I press my hand to my forehead. How can I have missed my period? How? I can’t be pregnant. No. No. No. I need to take a test. I need to take a test now. I exit the bathroom and head to my room, where I throw on sweats and a tee then sneakers, and rush to the door. I don’t even brush my hair. I enter the living room again to find my mother at the kitchen sink.

“Honey,” she greets. “Morning.” Her brows furrow. “Where are you going?”

“I forgot to drop something in the mail for my boss,” I say. “I have to take it now.” I don’t wait for her response. I exit the apartment and race down the stairs, and I don’t stop until I’m at the grocery that is closed. It’s closed! I want to scream. I run two blocks, and the corner store actually has a test. In a full, workout-worthy jog necessary because I’m going to be late to Cat’s place, I arrive back at the apartment.

My mother is still in the kitchen. “There’s coffee made,” she says.

“Thanks, Mom.” I give her a wave, but don’t look at her. “I’m late. I need to shower.”

Why did I say, I’m late? I hate those words. I enter the bathroom and shut the door, turning on the shower. My hand is shaking as I open the bag and pull out the box. I make fast work of undressing and peeing on the stick. I tell myself to just get in the shower while I wait for the results, but I don’t. I pace, naked, inside and out, right now.

Waiting for my future to be revealed while craziness goes on in my head. If I’m pregnant, will I tell Cole? I certainly have a lead on how to find him—at the bar, picking up women. I just might have to ask the other woman to give us privacy. The idea has me on my knees in front of the toilet, stomach rolling. What have I done? I look down at the test results, and it’s negative. Negative. I’m not pregnant. I’m just making myself sick. And this is why I should never have spent the night with a stranger. I have my mother to take care of right now. I take the second test from the box and repeat. Same results. So why haven’t I started my period?

I force myself to get into the shower, and finish my morning routine. Thirty minutes later, with my hair dry, my makeup applied, and my tests tucked in a bag and a robe on, I exit the bathroom. My mother is no longer in the living area but I hear her talking on her phone, laughing even, and I wonder if it’s the architect. This development worries me. If my mother gets hurt, if she gets stressed, I am concerned about how that impacts her health, but it’s so good to hear her smile.

Thirty minutes later, I’m dressed casually to work at Cat’s place, in jeans and an emerald green blouse with boots. The entire subway ride I think of that pregnancy test, and when I exit to Cat’s street I can’t help myself. I go to the store and buy another duet of tests. I stuff them in my briefcase, and decide I’ll just sneak into Cat’s bathroom and take the test.

I hurry through her building and up the elevator and the minute she answers the door, I blurt out. “Can you be a friend, not my boss, for about ten minutes?”

Her eyes go wide. “Is your mother okay?” She backs up to let me enter.

“Very. She’s dating again. It’s about me.”

I walk down the hallway and turn right and enter the bathroom, quickly pulling out the test kit. “What’s going on?” Cat asks. “You’re worrying me.”

I get it started, set it on the edge of the trashcan and once I’ve put everything back in place, cleaned up the package and me, I open the door. “Do you remember the night you had to leave me in the bar about a month ago?”

“Yes. Why?”

“There was a man, a really hot man, and—”

“You went home with him?”

“To his hotel. He was from out of town. I don’t do that kind of thing, but it had been so long and—,” I shake my head. “I did it. We used a condom, but I haven’t started my period. I’m freaking out. I took two tests this morning.”

“And?”

“Negative and—” I back up and grab the stick. “Also negative.” I toss the test in the trashcan. “What if I am, though?” I sit on the toilet seat.

She kneels in front of me. “You’re not. Those tests are very accurate, and I know this because I had the same scare a while back myself. My doctor told me stress and long hours can cause a missed period. You are a prime candidate for that issue.”

“I know. I know I am.”

“They can do a blood test. I’ll send you to my doctor. She’s on your new insurance.”

“Is it even in effect yet?”

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