Page 52 of Theirs to Treasure

“I’m giving you to the count of three.”

“Or you’ll huff, and you’ll puff, and you’ll blow my house down?” I demand, rolling my eyes, so damn sick of his overbearing, know-all, see-all attitude.

“Five minutes?” Zev asks, always the mediator.

“And not a second more.” Resolved, I step back, allowing them entrance. But I remain where I am, refusing to invite them in.

I make a show of checking the time on my watch. “Hawkeye’s a real snitch.”

“I’d have ripped every door off every building in this town until I found you.”

My breath hiccups. With how ferocious his voice is, I believe him.

“Look…” Zev drags a hand into his hair, then extends a brown paper bag toward me. “We need you to do this.”

Puzzled by the concern in his voice, I accept and look inside.

Then the bag falls from my nerveless fingers.

This can’t be happening.

“A pregnancy test?” I whisper, looking from one to the other. “But why? We were careful…” My voice trails off, and a knot forms in my stomach.

“Yeah.” Zev nods. “One of the condoms had a tear in it.”

I’m chilled from the inside out, remembering the pile of discarded protection in the hotel trashcan.

“It’s been about a month.” He retrieves the box. “We need to be sure.”

“This…” I shake my head. I’d know. Wouldn’t I?

“If it’s negative, we’ll get out of your life,” Zev promises.

Forrest, stoically, watching, calculating, doesn’t offer the same commitment.

In some other altered state, I take the box.

“I’ll go with you.”

Forrest’s demand has jolted me. “The hell you will.”

My mind racing, I walk down the hallway, my legs heavy and wooden. The possibility of pregnancy never crossed my mind. And why would it? Both men had been super cautious.

Inside the bathroom, I close the door.

Shaking, I lean against it for a moment. Then, when I’m in control, at least a little, I draw a steadying breath.

Feeling somehow detached, I follow the instructions on the box, reading and rereading to be sure I’m doing this correctly.

After it’s done, I wash my hands, then sit on the edge of the bathtub, unable to look away from the stick on the counter. Each second drags into an eternity.

A pink line appears, and I shake.

Then another joins it.

Surreal reality washes over me.

It’s positive.