Page 72 of Forked (Frenched 2)
After unloading my things from his trunk, I placed them in my back seat and turned to say goodbye. Nick stood a few feet from me. It felt like a few miles.
“I have to go to L.A. tomorrow. Back Wednesday. Just call me when…you know anything,” he said.
“I will.”
“And take care of yourself.”
“I will.” The tone of sad finality in his voice squeezed my heart.
Taking two steps forward, he kissed me on the cheek. “Thanks for staying the weekend with me. Let me know the details for the party next Saturday. I’ll be there.” Then he walked around the front of the Mercury, looking more morose than I’d ever seen him.
No—there was one other time I’d seen him that miserable, the night I’d broken things off because I thought he’d slept with another girl. The night he’d lied. The night he thought he lost me.
I’d believed that was goodbye forever.
Maybe it should have been.
“What’s it doing?” I sat on the edge of the tub in Mia and Lucas’s bathroom, my hands twisting together in my lap.
Please be positive.
“Nothing yet.” Mia and Erin stood at the vanity, both of them staring intently at the st
ick, like those people who can make objects move just by looking at them.
Please be negative.
“OK. Tell me when you see anything.”
Please be positive.
“It’s only been like thirty seconds—wait Something happening!” Erin grabbed Mia’s arms, and Mia grabbed Erin’s back. They looked like a 6th grade couple at a middle school dance.
Please be negative.
“Oh, God, you guys. I’m a wreck. What is it?” Getting to my feet, I paced back and forth in front of the tub, terrified of either result.
“Hold on…” Mia’s voice—was it hopeful or wary? I knew she wanted it to be negative.
And what if it was? Would I be relieved or disappointed? Why did I feel like I’d cry either way?
“OK, it’s done.” Erin and Mia looked at each other and turned to me.
“Holy shit.” I felt woozy. I breathed in and out, touched my fingers to my temples. “OK, tell me. Am I pregnant?”
“No,” Mia said. “You’re not.”
“Not according to this test,” Erin added. “But you should probably take the second one in the box tomorrow to be even surer.”
Exhaling, I closed my eyes and let my hands drop to my stomach. Not pregnant. Erin was right, and I would take the test tomorrow, but somehow I knew what Mia said was true. “I’m not pregnant.” The word pregnant caught in my throat, and I struggled to choke back tears. They spilled over anyway. “I’m not pregnant,” I sobbed.
“Oh, honey.” Mia took me in her arms, and Erin wrapped us both in hers. “Are you sad or just relieved?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted as they released me. “Both, I guess.”
“Come on in here. Erin, grab the tissues.” Mia led me into her bedroom, spacious but cozy with its chocolate brown walls and king-sized bed mounded with colorful pillows. Photographs of Paris hung over the bed, and on her nightstand, Mia had a framed picture of Lucas and herself on the top of Notre Dame Cathedral. She sat on the foot of the bed, pulling me down beside her. “Speak.”
“She’s not a dog, Mia.” Erin handed me the box of tissues and sat on my other side. “And let her catch her breath first.”
