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As soon as my hands were dry, I knelt in front of the sink and checked underneath for anything I could use to help me figure out my current situation. In the back was a pink box. I recognized the design as one of the ones that used to be sold in the drugstore right next to the diner. They would usually run out at some point in the spring.
I snatched it up and tore it open, reading the directions as quickly and closely as possible. Forget why Hector had one of these things at all. I didn’t know his previous circumstances. Shoot, I wasn’t in the mood to think about that. The thought of another woman putting her hands on him made melivid.
My phone buzzed on the counter, and another text appeared. This one was from Hector, reminding me that we hadsupper with Adrian later. I shivered as I tried to respond in a way that was characteristic. I didn't even remember what I typed. I was too occupied by the directions on the box, too engulfed in the act of squatting over the toilet and peeing on this pink and white stick.
Once the stick was capped, I set a three-minute timer on my phone and watched the numbers tick down. What was I supposed to do if it was positive? If I was pregnant? Would that make him happy? If I was pregnant, that would make leaving a lot more complicated—never mind the fact that my feelings about stayingandleaving were already complicated.
Fear made my heart race. Uncertainty made the blood rush through my veins. This time, a new headache was knocking at the back of my skull. A sense of regret came with it as I realized that my entire life was hinged on this moment.
Two minutes.
I watched the numbers continue to tick down. Excitement started to slide into place. I'd always wanted to be a mother, a good mother. One who was a lot better than my own. Hector would make a great father. He was attentive, kind, and instructive. And he was a strong leader. He defended the weak. That meant our children would be safe with him. That meant security. He wouldn’t ditch his kid, no chance.
One minute.
My potential joy turned back into anxiety. Elders in every wolf pack told the rejected mate horror stories. It was one thing to play a prank on somebody, but it was entirely different to reject a person who was already marked. It was like signing a death certificate.
In this pack, rejected mates were sent out into the woods. Nobody wanted to be around that kind of unlucky being. To dothat to a motheranda child would be gruesome—it would be torture. The terror of war couldn't compare to what might come of that situation.
Twenty seconds.
I sat stiffly on the toilet seat, tapping my finger rhythmically against my knee, switching which fingers were tapping, trying to create a new rhythm but utterly failing.
Ten seconds down.
I felt like I couldn't breathe. My throat got clogged up. My head felt like it was floating up while my body stayed stationary. My shoulders were up to my ears. My knees were tense.
Three seconds.
I heard the door open downstairs. My heart quivered as I listened to the familiar sound of Hector coming home.
I looked at the stick on the counter.
Positive.
It was all pink and pretty, two fine lines as clear as day, so clear that I knew exactly what was going to come next.
I couldn't breathe. I had a half notion that my fingers were rising to my lips in a state of shock, and at the same time, I was smiling. I heard the stairs creak.
Hector called out, “Where you at, Cherry Pie? Adrian's on the way.”
I snatched the stick from the counter and shoved it back into the box, sticking it into the back of the cabinet where it was.
“I'm coming!” I flushed the toilet even though I hadn't used it and then washed my hands. “I'm just going to be another second. Don’t wait for me.”
I heard his boots pause in front of the door. “Are you feeling sick again? We can always cancel.”
After I dried my hands, I opened the door. “Nonsense. It's Adrian. We should absolutely have him over.”
Hector gazed down at me with a lazy smile. His face was rugged from not shaving for a few days. I liked the stubble a lot. I liked the way his hair fell into his eyes and how the corners of his eyes crinkled when he smiled at me. I liked, in particular, how he looked at me right now.
Like he was thinking about something very special to do to me.
He held out his hand to me. “Sorry, I missed you most of the day. I got stuck in town. Can you help me with the food?”
I smiled. “I can always help you with the food.”
In the back of my mind, I thought about the news. I debated on telling him now or waiting until I had a way out if he rejected me.
