Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 95256 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95256 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
At first, I just rolled my eyes at the annoyance—I was already running late and didn’t have time to sew a button. I was rifling through the hangers in my closet, hunting for another pair of pants that would fit my bloated belly when something occurred to me.
I froze.
How long had it been since I’d gotten my period?
I couldn’t remember.
Okay, don’t panic, I told myself, calmly walking over to my bathroom. I looked under my sink and took out a box of tampons—it was unopened. Had I emptied a previous box and forgotten about it? I stared at my wretched face in the mirror and tried to think. I’d had one period in early January for sure . . . but after that, I couldn’t recall one.
My heart began to pound. Was it possible I was pregnant?
With Gianni Lupo’s baby?
I dropped the box of tampons and put both palms to my hot cheeks. No. No way. Gianni had worn a condom every time.
Except for those five minutes against the wall…
No.
I hurried out of the bathroom, refusing to believe it. There was no way those five minutes could have such catastrophic consequences.
I grabbed my phone and checked the time—just after nine. If I hurried, I could make it to the pharmacy and back before my eleven o’clock tasting. I’d have to cancel coffee with Winnie downstairs, but I’d make up an excuse like a headache or something. She knew I hadn’t been well.
And I was scared if I said the thing out loud, I might manifest it.
Trading my work blouse for a sweatshirt, I threw on a pair of jeans, shoved my pudgy feet into sneakers, and headed out.
Less than one hour later, I was back in my bathroom, staring at a big fat plus sign and trying not to be sick.
Two plus signs, actually, because I’d been sure the first test in the box had given me an erroneous reading. But I’d taken the second one and gotten the same result.
The test was positive.
I was pregnant.
My vision blurred and swam. Squeezing my eyes shut, I grabbed onto the sink and took a few deep breaths. When I opened them again, I stared at my reflection in the mirror. My face was gray. My eyes were bloodshot.
I was pregnant.
Dropping to my knees, I vomited into the toilet until my stomach was empty, my entire body shook, and tears streamed down my face.
I curled into a ball on my bathroom floor and lay there sobbing, pounding a fist against the tile floor. This was so unfair! It was just a blizzard bang! It wasn’t supposed to have permanent consequences! I was only twenty-three and totally unprepared for motherhood! And what about Gianni? Jesus Christ, if ever there was a guy unfit to father a child at twenty-three, it was Gianni Lupo.
What were we going to do?
At some point, I realized I couldn’t stay on my bathroom floor all day—I had responsibilities at work. Guests were waiting for me. My family was counting on me.
I dragged myself off the floor and did the best I could to clean up my face, avoiding the sight of those pregnancy tests. In my closet, I found a pair of pants that fit and a top that I didn’t have to tuck in. I pulled my hair back, covered my splotchy face with makeup, disguised my puffy red eyes with liner and shadow, and applied the brightest red lipstick I had, hoping it would distract people’s eyes from anything else on my face.
Pausing for a couple deep breaths, I told myself all I had to do was handle a few hours of work. Then I could come back up to my room and fall apart again. Of course, I was scheduled to work at Etoile tonight, which meant coming face to face with Gianni, but I wouldn’t think about that yet.
One thing at a time.
Somehow, I made it through the day.
After my last tasting, I closed up the room and went upstairs to find Winnie. I had to tell someone or I was going to go crazy.
I found her in my mom’s office, which was just off the lobby. The door was open, but I knocked on it. “Hey.”
She looked up, and at first she smiled, but it quickly faded. “What’s wrong?”
“Got a minute?”
“Of course. Come in.”
I entered the office and perched on the edge of a chair across from the desk while Winnie shut the door. “What’s going on?” she asked, coming to sit in the chair next to me.
I pressed my knees together and looked down at them. Took a deep breath. “It’s bad.”
“How bad?”
I met her worried eyes. “Bad,” I said, my voice cracking, my eyes filling. “And I’m so alone.”
She leaned forward and took my hand. “You are not alone. You will never be alone. Tell me what’s going on.”