Page 80 of Mine

“Hmm,” I hum, showing my mom I heard her, too sleepy to say words.

She sighs above me. “Try to get out of the house today, okay? I know it’s tough. Maybe take your grandma to that new food place in town or Christmas shopping?”

“Maybe,” I whisper, but we both know it’s a lie.

I cuddle Mr. Bear, my childhood stuffed animal, a little closer. He doesn’t judge me, and he keeps my secrets, too, which is why he’s the only one in a house full of family that I whispered my suspicions to.

“Jessie, leave my grandbaby alone.”

I don’t even need to look back at them to know both have an identical pinched expression on their faces. “It’s been three weeks, Mom. I need her to eat more, or I’m calling the doctor again.”

* * *

I can’t put it off any longer. I need to know.

Grabbing my sneakers from beside my bedroom door, I shove my feet into them, barely taking the time to lace them.

I fist the car keys as I slam the door closed. My hand shakes so hard it takes a few times to insert the key.

Unfortunately, the local Costco is humming with people, and by the time I get to the checkout, my nerves are shot.

A woman in her mid-twenties stands in line before me with a small boy throwing a tantrum at her feet. I feel my panic grow and clutch my one item even tighter.

After what feels far too long for a line of just two people to be served, where the universe is cruelly tormenting me, the cashier finally hands me my change.

Speed walking to the back of the store, I beeline for the bathroom, not wanting to wait until I get home.

An employee opens his mouth as I rush past him, and I glare through my tears, daring him to stop me.

Now is not the time to fuck with me.

I breathe a sigh of relief when I see the ladies’ room is empty. Rushing into the stall, I sit staring at the test in my hands.

It takes a few minutes as I apparently do not pee well under pressure, and I have to remind myself to calm down. Nothing has happened yet.

I could be wrong.

I place the used test on the counter as I wash my hands. Gripping the side, I stare at myself in the mirror. The dark circles under my eyes are a testament to how I have not been sleeping. I look gaunt and pale.

These past three weeks have been hell. I can’t eat; I can’t sleep. And I think the reason for both is him.

I hang my head, unable to look at myself any longer.

Three minutes, it’s time.

I drag in a deep breath and open my eyes.

Positive.

I’m pregnant.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

I almost swallow my tongue in shock when I see a large hand slide around my waist, settling on my stomach.

“Mine.” The word is growled into my ear, full of possession and pride, and I know he’s not talking about just me anymore.

I know he will never let us go.