I barked a laugh. “I don’t have a fucking clue what I’m doing here. I’ve never had a pregnancy scare, either. What am I supposed to say? What wouldyousay to a friend who was stalling on taking a pregnancy test?”
She cocked her head, thinking. “I’d gently but firmly insist she take it.”
“Take the fucking test, Chloe,” I said.
She gave me an unimpressed eyeroll. “Your delivery needs work.”
“Where’s the test?” I asked.
“In the bathroom. I really was going to take it, but I couldn’t squeeze out more than a drop.”
“For fuck’s sake, princess,” I grunted. I took her by the elbow and escorted her down the hallway to the bathroom and practically tossed her inside. I took note of the disposable plastic cup sitting on the sink counter. The test was next to it.“You want me to hold the cup for you while you pee? I’ll do it,” I threatened.
She glared and gave my shoulder a not-too-gentle shove. “Get the hell out of here, Steven.”
I smirked. “There she is,” I murmured, stepping into the hallway and closing the bathroom door behind me.
And then I paused, listening for the sound of her going like a damn pervert. When I heard pee hit plastic, I headed back to the kitchen. Might as well clean something while I waited.
A minute later she found me wiping down the inside of her butter-splattered microwave. I had the feeling she made a lot of popcorn. “Well?” I asked tersely.
“Thirty more seconds,” she replied.
We stared at each other for every single one of those seconds. Longest thirty seconds of my fuckinglife. Why the hell was I so invested? It wasn’t my baby.Shewasn’t mine. And yet I couldn’t imagine how changing either of those facts would make a damn bit of difference. I couldn’t imagine caring more than I did right now. It was already too fucking much.
The alarm went off on her phone. She silenced it, then looked at the test. Surprise, then joy, a quick lightning strike of emotion before her features went blank again. She held up the test so I could see the single word on the digital screen.
Pregnant.
14
STEVEN
Steven
You good?
Steven
Hey
Two unanswered texts,sent twenty-four hours apart, was where I drew the line. A third would be an invitation for her to block me. Maybe she already had, and I was too dense to get the hint.
“She’s fine,” I muttered to my phone. Stevie plopped her head in my lap and I absently rubbed the silky spot between her ears.
“No pigs at the table,” Amy said, pushing Stevie aside as she placed a stack of pancakes in front of me. Stevie whined inprotest, which worked on me, but Amy had a heart of stone. “Who’s fine?”
“Just a…” Friend? No. “Just a person I know. I offered to help her with something, but she didn’t text back. That means she’s fine, right? She doesn’t need help.”
“That means she doesn’t want to talk to you,” Amy said bluntly. “Someone else is probably helping her.”
She had a point. Chloe had friends. The kind of friends who knew her favorite flower was a pink peony and gave her hand-embroidered shoes. The kind of friends she held a grudge for. She didn’t need me. I was just the guy who happened to be awake at 3 a.m.
I should have been relieved. Chloe was fuckingpregnant. I didn’t need to be a part of that mess. I should be glad she didn’t text back. Instead, I was fucking pissed.
Anger is a mask.
I heard Chloe’s voice clear as day, like she was sitting right next to me, and if I closed my eyes, it was a sure bet I’d see her withering green stare branded on the back of my eyelids. I solved that problem by not closing my eyes.
