Page 116 of Taken By My Grumpy Pakhan

By the time I got home that night, the knot in my stomach had nothing to do with Svetlana anymore. I made it through the door and straight to the bathroom before Anna could even get a hello out.

“Again?” She was right outside the door within seconds. “That’s the fourth time this week, Genevieve.”

“Stomach bug.” I rinsed my mouth at the sink and avoided my own reflection.

“A stomach bug that only shows up in the morning and whenever food has a smell.”

The door creaked open. She was holding a small box like she’d been saving it for this exact moment. “I love you, but I’m done pretending I believe that.”

“Anna.”

“Just take it.” She pressed it into my hands. “If I’m wrong, I will never bring it up again. I’ll even apologize.”

“I have the implant. It’s not possible.”

“But you’ve also been having lots of sex and this is your second wave of unidentified sickness.”

My brows crinkled. “Second wave?”

“Yup.” She nodded, pushing the box to me. “The first was after your trip to Russia, remember?”

“Yeah, but it was mostly stress,” I replied, my voice shaky.

“Then you have no reason to be scared of this then?”

“Like I said, Anna, I have implants.”

“When did you get it put in?”

I opened my mouth to answer immediately and nothing came out. I did the math once. Then again, hoping for a different number and ending with the same digits.

“It might have expired,” I said quietly.

Her face didn’t move, which somehow made it worse than if she’d gasped. “Go take the test.”

I sat on the edge of the tub with the box in my lap, and for one full minute I didn’t move. My hands were shaking by the time I got the wrapper open, and I thought, absurdly, of Kazimir’s hand closing over mine at lunch to steal a fry back, of the fact that if this test came back the way I was terrified it would, that man was about to become permanently, irrevocably tangled into my life whether either of us wanted it or not.

Three minutes felt like an hour. I stared at the water stain on the tile, at the grout between tiles, at anything that wasn’t the counter where the answer was waiting.

“Genevieve.” Anna knocked softly. “It’s been three minutes.”

I looked.

Two lines.

I stared at it, waiting for it to blur into one, waiting for my eyes to have played a trick on me. It didn’t change.

“Genevieve?” Her voice had an edge of panic now. “What does it say?”

I opened the door with the test still in my hand, and whatever she saw on my face answered before I said a word.

“Oh my god.” She pulled me into a hug I didn’t have the strength to return, her arms tight around me while my mind spun through every version of what came next.

“These things aren’t always accurate.” My voice sounded far away, even to me. “I need a real test. A hospital test. I need to actually know.”

“Genevieve, it’s a pretty reliable—”

“Now, Anna. Please.” I was already reaching for my coat with hands that hadn’t stopped shaking since the bathroom. “I can’t sit here not knowing. I can’t.”