Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 83102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
I turn away so my voice is hard to hear. “Okay, it was indecent exposure something or other.”
She cocks her head to the left, leaning her ear toward me. “Come again?”
“Sawyer and I were…together in his truck.”
Queenie’s jaw drops and then she blushes. BLUSHES. Queenie who proudly devours motorcycle sex scenes on her Kindle is officially scandalized by my slutty behavior.
She points a red manicured finger at me. “You better hope you didn’t get pregnant.”
I roll my eyes. “I’m not getting pregnant. We used—”
I stop talking. I stop everything, breathing being top of the list. My heart is on pause. My brain is no longer working. Every single fiber of my being is focused on the fact that Sawyer and I didn’t use a condom last night in his truck.
Queenie—upon seeing my expression—leans back in her chair and looks up at the ceiling. “Oh lordy, here we go…”
“Good news, it says your chances are only ‘good to very good’. Whereas the last website said it was ‘highly likely’. How certain are you that you haven’t been taking birth control?” Kendra asks.
“Uh, pretty freaking sure, Kendra.”
I stopped taking my prescription birth control two months ago. I’d made it perfectly clear to Matthew that I was eager to start a family right after our wedding. While he wasn’t overly enthusiastic about the idea—Matthew’s father didn’t have kids until he was thirty-five, thus Matthew felt that was the perfect age for him to start a family as well—I was confident I’d convince him to come around to my way of thinking.
I told him I wanted to start trying to get pregnant right after the wedding. I even discussed it with my doctor and she recommended I stop taking the pill sooner rather than later if I was really eager to conceive.
After my breakup with Matthew, I forgot to renew my prescription. I’d set a reminder on my phone to call my doctor’s office, but that reminder has been blaring again and again for a few weeks now and I’ve tuned it out, distractedly promising myself I’d get around to it eventually, but now…welp, maybe there’s no point.
Kendra and I have been doing some research online, putting the first day of my last period into various calculators to see whether or not I might be ovulating. We have scoured every corner of the internet. No stone has been left unturned.
“There are options here for you to explore,” Kendra points out. “You aren’t stuck.”
My chest feels tight. “I don’t want to do anything yet. I just need to think.”
“What do you mean you need to think? What is there to think about?”
“I want kids…” I point out weakly.
“Listen, I know that, Madison, but LIKE THIS?”
I don’t know! It’s unconventional, absolutely no doubt about it, but it’s not totally out of the question. I’ve always thought it would be fun if my children were close in age to their cousins and I know Lindsey and David have talked about trying for baby number two soon. Not to mention, Kendra has Nathan and Ava. She loves being a mom, and I’ve always been a bit envious of that. When Matthew ended our engagement, I assumed I was years away from thinking about children, but maybe this is another way. A blessing.
“I’m considering it…”
Kendra blows out an unsteady breath. “Then you have to talk to Sawyer. He deserves to know what’s going on.”
“You think?”
“Um yes, Madison! You cannot let this turn into an episode of Jerry Springer. Recent events aside, I don’t actually condone duping or lying to your partner. Especially about something this important!”
“Could have fooled me… What was all that ‘teach him a lesson’ nonsense you were spewing last week?”
“Yes well, that was before last night! Now, I want you to do the right thing. Talk to him. Now. Before things get out of hand.”
It would have been convenient to see Sawyer this morning when he came by Queenie’s house with coffees and pastries. I could have seen where his head was at, whether he was regretful about last night or not, before I found myself in this current predicament.
Now, it’s gotten complicated.
Queenie’s all too happy to let me have the morning off from work even with Amber and Michael’s wedding next weekend. “Go. Do what you need to do.”
I take her car and blast old Shania Twain to give me strength as I drive to a pharmacy two towns over—just to ensure I don’t bump into any familiar faces in the “family planning” aisle. After I’ve made my purchases, I go into the crummy bathroom, shove myself into a stall, and read the instructions for the ovulation test under the yellow-tinted fluorescent lights. Simple enough. We’re looking for two dark lines, similar to a pregnancy test.
Except, I can’t do it. My hand shakes as I stare at the box. Do I really want to know one way or another? So soon?