Page 25 of Twins with Daddy’s Bestie

In culinary school, we learned that you eat with your eyes before your mouth, and seeing the plates set out before me makes me happy that I ordered both dishes. It takes a moment for the smells to set in, but as soon as they do, my stomach turns again.

I reluctantly set my fork and knife down and place a hand over my stomach, backing away and shaking my head. The others at the table look at me curiously, holding off on eating their food until they know

I'm okay.

Brianna reaches for my arm, and I shake my head and hold up a finger to signal that I need a moment.

“I'll be right back,” I say before rushing to the bathroom. There's a small line filled with moderately drunk women, but when I say I feel sick, they let me go ahead of them. I'm immensely grateful because as soon as the stall door closes behind me, I fall to my knees and vomit into the toilet.

“Oh no, honey,” a random woman says as she opens the door and holds my hair back. “You gotta make sure to eat before you hit those bottomless mimosas.”

I flush the toilet and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, shaking as she helps me to my feet. “Thank you.”

The woman digs in her purse for a water bottle and offers it to me. Then, we move to the sink where I splash some water on my face and take a few deep breaths before going back out to my table.

“Sorry guys, I'm really not feeling well,” I say as I grab my things and stand next to them, almost nauseous again at the site of the food on the table. “I'm going to head out, but you guys enjoy the rest of the day. Let me know how the movie is later!”

“You better not be pregnant,” Callie jokes, sparking laughter from everyone as she hugs me goodbye.

“Don't be ridiculous, Cal. You have to have sex to get pregnant,” Michelle says through an already tipsy bit of laughter.

“Yeah, can fictional men get you pregnant? Because that's just about the only way that would happen,” Brianna adds.

I think they’re waiting for me to join them and poke fun at myself, and in most situations, I would. Unfortunately, there might be some truth to what Callie said. My face blanches, and I feel a cold chill run down my spine as I start doing mental math trying to remember when my last period was. Callie's eyes lock on mine, and a realization sets on her face, too.

Without hesitation, she grabs her bag, jumps up, grabs my hand, and pulls me away from the table. She shouts something at the others to tell them we're leaving, and I can hear the confusion in their voices though I can’t make out the words.

Everything is a blur as she drags me down the street toward a drugstore, where we wind up in the feminine care aisle surrounded by maxi pads and pregnancy tests. It doesn't feel real as she waits for me to do something.

“I guess we can buy one of each. I don't know which one is the best,” Callie says, opening Google on her phone to figure out the most reliable pregnancy test.

I lean against one of the metal aisles and stare at the pink and blue boxes in front of me. Callie sees how upset I am, grabs a handful of pregnancy tests, nudges me toward the register, pays for them, and then shoves me in the back seat of a car. I don't even register the car moving until we pull up outside of our apartment.

“What do you need?” she asks, pacing in the living room. She hands me a glass of water, watching me intensely while I nurse it. “Come on. You've got a lot of sticks to pee on; you can do better than that.”

I nod, guzzling the water as she hands me another. Within thirty minutes, I feel like my bladder is going to explode, and I rush to the bathroom to take the first test. Aiming on the stick is surprisingly difficult, but when I'm done, I open the door so Callie can come in.

We wait in silence as she sets a timer on her phone, neither of us able to look at the test. The three minutes we are supposed to wait stretch like an eternity before Callie’s alarm rings and we perk up, looking at the plastic stick sitting on the counter. My heart is beating in my throat, and I feel like I'm going to vomit again.

“No matter what happens, I'm here for you,” Callie says as she takes a deep breath and reaches for my hand. She squeezes it tightly, and I've never been more thankful to have her.

I take a deep breath and look at the counter, staring at the stick to see two pink lines on the LED display.

“Two lines is good, right?” Callie doesn’t say anything right away, and I turn to look at her, hoping she’ll tell me that two lines means I’m not pregnant, that all of this is just a big misunderstanding, and that I really have the flu. “Callie? Two lines is good, right?”

“Let's just take another one,” she says, grabbing a different brand and shoving it into my hands. “These things aren't always accurate.”

We go through the same situation three more times, and each of the pregnancy tests reads positive. After the fourth test, I shake my head when Callie tries to hand me another. There's no use trying to disprove what's happening.

I'm pregnant.

16

Drake

I can't stop thinking about the conversation I had with Leonard at the restaurant last week. A part of me feels guilty for entertaining the idea of being with Olivia after what he said. But I can't help feeling so strongly about her. She's unlike any woman I've met.

Even though I'm thinking about a relationship with Olivia, I think a lot about what Leonard said about her restaurant. The fact that she was willing to share that with me but not somebody as close to her as her father speaks volumes. There might be hope for us.