Page 107 of Married to the Scottish Player
“Okay. Let’s get back on track,” Lucy says. “What makes you think he knows you took a pregnancy test?”
“He wasn’t acting normal—and by normal I mean, goofy and funny and broody. He was ...” I stop and think. “Asking me about baby names and shit.”
Lucy’s silent for a beat. “Okay,go on.”
“He brought up Halloween costumes for his imaginary future children. Oh! And then—he said he likes the idea of building a family someday.A family.”
Lucy lets out a low whistle. “And you’re sure he’s not just ... that into you?”
“I mean,yes, he’s into me.” I wave my hand like that’s a given. “We literally came on the couch at the same time fifteen minutes ago.”
“So romantic.”
“Shut up.”
Lucy sighs. “So how are you going to fix this?”
I flop backward dramatically. “Idon’tknow! If I bring it up and he didn’t see it, I’ll look insane. And if hedidsee it and I don’t say anything, then I look like I’m playing some manipulative long game.”
My best friend makes apfftsound. “You kind of are.”
I gasp. “Can you please be helpful forOnce in Your Life?”
She gasps back at me. “Excuse me? I’m always helpful! I am the calm, chill friend—you are the one peeing in garbage cans of a man yougot drunk with and married at another person’s wedding and it ended up all over the news!”
That shuts me right up. “Hmm. You do make a valid point.”
There’s a beat of silence before she says, “I love you, but if you don’t go talk to this man soon, I’m going to drive over there myself and hand deliver him all your secrets on a silver platter.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“Wouldn’t I?” Lucy says sweetly.
She would, actually. She absolutely would. Because that’s what best friends are for: emotional blackmail via threats of silver-platter truth bombs.
“All right. So how do I find out forsureif he knows I took the pregnancy test?”
There’s a beat.
“Let me think for two seconds.” She hums, slipping into full chaos-strategist mode. “Oh! Okay. I’ve got it—you have two options.”
“Hit me.” I’m ready.
Go.
“One: You casually ask if he took out the trash lately. Then watch him to see what he does. If he flinches, bingo! Guilty. If he stares at you like he has no idea on earth what you’re talking about, he probably didn’t see it.”
“Eh.” Don’t love that. “What’s option two?”
“You stage a fake discovery. Go into the guest bathroom and pretend you saw it for the first time. Gasp. Say something dramatic like ‘Oh my God, what’s this doing here?’ And see what he does.”
That is truly horrifying. I’m a terrible actress. “Lucy, I amnotpulling a reverse Scooby-Doo reveal on a pregnancy test.”
“Fine,” she says. “Option three.”
Oh goody. “There’s a third?”
“Of course.” She pauses. “You put your big-girl sweatpants on, walk into the living room, and say, ‘Hey, remember how we had lots and lots and lots of unprotected sex? I may have panicked and taken a test in yourguest bathroom and forgot to dispose of it like a civilized human?’ And then see what he says.”
