Page 21 of Falling Together

“Sorry. But if she is, we need to know,” she says.

“What? No,” I snap, looking at all three of them. “There’s no way I can be pregnant.”

“When was the last time you had sex?” Rylee asks, dragging a potato through ketchup before popping it in her mouth.

“Wasn’t it the hot baseball dad from the wedding?” Joey asks, waggling her eyebrows.

“Oh, shit.”

My default thought was the last guy I’d had sex with almost a year ago. Some guy I met in town one night, and we dated for a few weeks. Nothing earth-shattering, but he was cute, so I figured why not.

The night of Rylee’s wedding? I’d pushed it out of my head because no good would come from replaying that night over and over in my brain.

No matter how hot it was.

“Do we need to get you a pregnancy test?” Presley asks, bringing me out of my spiraling thoughts.

“Oh my God. Maybe?” I question. “But we used a condom. There’s no way.”

Joey drops a warm hand over mine. Panic is swelling in my stomach.

“It can happen. That’s how I got pregnant with Max.”

“Ugh.” I bang my head on the laminate tabletop. “I can’t be pregnant. I mean, this guy doesn’t even live in town.”

“That’s not a reason for you not to be pregnant,” Rylee oh-so-helpfully points out. “Why don’t we go get a test and you can take one? If you’re not pregnant, maybe you should go see your doctor.”

“One? Try five,” I say, gulping down the rest of my drink. Now that the thought is there, the nerves in my stomach won’t go away.

My cycles have always been erratic. The last two months I had spotting—something that’s normal for me—so I didn’t even think I missed my period.

Pregnant? With some guy whose last name I don’t even remember?

Great job, Georgia, great job.

Presley flags down the server and asks for the check and to-go boxes.

“We’re not even going to finish breakfast?” I ask.

“Considering you haven’t eaten a single bite, I don’t think you have any room to talk. Besides, we need to get some answers.”

“I thought you were busy?”

She shakes her head. “Not anymore.”

Rylee drops some cash on the table and scoots me out of the booth. “We all want to know the answer to this question. Let’s go.”

It all goes by in a blur. Walking out of the restaurant. Going to the drug store and getting not one but three tests, and then making the short walk home.

“I think I’m going to be sick.”

I shake my hands out as I pace the length of my bedroom. The tests are sitting on the bathroom counter as everyone watches me while we wait for the timer to go off.

“Why don’t you sit down?” Rylee suggests. “I don’t think it’s going to help if you work yourself into a frenzy.”

I flop down onto the end of the bed. “I’m the responsible one here. How in the world did I let this happen?”

“Considering two of us are raising kids, I’d say we’re responsible,” Presley remarks.