“I don’t know, I feel a little tired…maybe a little queasy,” I say as I pick at my salad with a fork.

I’m having an early dinner with Molly and we’re discussing whether or not I’m going to be pregnant this month.

“Well if you are preggo, then you are extremely fertile and should count yourself lucky to have it work on your very first try.” Molly takes a bite of her burger.

“That’s true,” I say. “I hope I am.

I pick at a cucumber slice, too nervous to take interest in bringing it to my mouth to eat.

“What about a pregnancy test?” Molly looks at me quizzically.

I shake my head.

“Not yet, but I’m going to take one when I get home.”

“I wish I could be there with you, but I have that meeting with my trainer,” Molly says regretfully.

“I know. I wish I had your motivation.” I blow out a puff of air. “I just can’t seem to get it in gear with the exercising lately.”

“Well you have a lot on your plate,” Molly says.

“That’s true, there’s so much going on at work, and with Zane, and the contract…” I trail off mid sentence. Just talking about it is mentally draining.

“Yes, but you also still have a lot on your plate,” Molly jokes and points to the plush salad, enticingly fresh and sitting there virtually untouched.

I laugh out loud.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you Molls,” I quip.

“Duh, you can’t live without me, I’m your P.O.C.”

“P.O.C.?” I stare at her and she smiles.

“Partner in Crime!”

“Oh right,” I chuckle.

The waiter comes to give us the bill and I’m thankful because I’m ready to head home and get this shit over with.

“You look white as a sheet,” Molly says as we head out into the busy, early evening Manhattan streets, still bustling with straggling rush hour commuters.

“I just need to know the answer,” I say. I’m a sufferer of impatience.

“You haven’t missed your period yet?” Molly stops at the traffic light and we wait for the crosswalk to switch.

I shake my head.

“No, but I have one of those sensitive tests. You know what I’m talking about right? The ones that say know the results up to five days sooner?”

“Oh yes,” Molly nods. “I’m no stranger to taking pregnancy tests.”

I laugh.

“Me either, but this will be the first time I actually want the answer to be yes.”

“Well, I have my fingers crossed for you,” Molly says as we cross the street.

“Thanks,” I say. “Love you, mean it.”

We hug and walk in opposite directions, me back to my house, and her to the gym after just consuming a half pound cheese burger. Molly is unusual, mysterious and amazing and I’m so lucky to call her my best friend.

I walk in the door to my apartment a few minutes later, shaking with anxiety as I toss my keys in their bowl on the counter.

I run a hand through my hair and go to my master bedroom where I splash cold water on my face and stare at my reflection in the mirror.

I look cute, but a little tired. My hair is still bouncy from the day, thanks to the millions of dollars I spend on hair care products.

Okay, maybe I’m slightly exaggerating, but I swear every time I go to the salon they talk me into buying hundreds of dollars worth of products that I’m not sure even make that much of a difference, but I use them anyway.

I’m off track, and derailing off focus.

Let me get back to where I need to be, which is sitting on a toilet, holding a pee stick between my legs.

This obviously isn’t my first time taking a pregnancy test, but I want the second line to grow pink immediately, I cling to every wish and hope as I relieve my bladder.

I pull up the test stick and watch as the liquid slowly runs over the testing strip. I wait for a few seconds, knowing that in reality, you don’t have to wait the five minutes and the line is usually instant if it’s positive.

This isn’t like the movies, this is fucking real life and my heart is beating so hard, I can hear my pulse in my ears.

At first there is no second pink line. Fuck, a sinking feeling burrows under my skin.

I wait a few more seconds, but not even a faint positive line appears. I’m upset, and now I have to tell Zane.

I need to call him so I decide to tell him over the phone that his baby batter didn’t take this month. There’s always next month, and I hope he doesn’t care about it too much.

I chuck the stick in the trash. I don’t want to fucking look at anymore; it makes me too sad.

I take a deep breath, exhaling dramatically as I plop down on my couch. I have to bite bullet, rip off the Band-Aid, and do whatever fucking other cliché’s there are out there and call Zane…now.

He answers on the second ring, and his voice sounds a little gruff. It throws me for a loop and I stutter for a few moments.

“Uh, hi, Zane…it’s…Piper.”

“Yeah, I know, I have your number saved into my phone,” he says with dry sarcasm.

“I’m sorry, is something wrong?” The hairs prickle on the back of my neck. I sense trouble, but I have no idea why.

“Nothing,” he states flatly, and doesn’t keep the conversation flowing.

Great, I guess he’s wearing his asshole hat tonight, so I just have to roll with the punches.

“Well, I’m calling you,” I press on, “because I took a pregnancy test just now.”

I pause with baited breath, waiting to gauge his reaction.

“Okay?” he asks, and his tone reflects disinterest.

“It’s negative,” I say and bite my lip.

“So? What the fuck do you want me to do about it?” he yells into the phone.

Whoa. Holy shit. What the fuck?

I’m in total shock and don’t even know what to say. Any words I have to reciprocate freeze in my throat. This was the last reaction I expected.

When I recover after a second or two, I’m hurt but I don’t let it show, so I fight back.

“What the fuck is your problem tonight?”

“I don’t have a problem, I just don’t know what you want from me,” he snarls into the phone.

“Um, how about a little fucking support or something? Or how about ‘there’s always next month?’” I shake my head. “Throw me a fucking bone.”

“I am throwing you a bone,” he retorts, and I take that to mean his hard cock, in the literal sense of the word.

“Gee, thanks,” I drone derisively.

“I don’t have time for this shit right now,” he sighs into the phone and I can picture him rubbing his temples.

I have no idea why he has a massive stick up his ass, but he needs to get over himself, and fucking fast.

“I don’t have time for your bullshit either!” I roar into the phone and hang up on him.

Okay, so maybe I have a slight temper issue too, and with pretty much zero ability to contain it properly. But I can’t help it; I’m hurt by his abrasiveness out of fucking nowhere.

I close my eyes and try to numb my senses, but it doesn’t fucking work. I sit up and go to my kitchen and drink chardonnay straight out of the bottle. I’m not pregnant, so it doesn’t fucking matter.

As I start to relax and unwind, I think about how maybe I’ll call Zane and apologize. But I remember how he snarled at me out of nowhere and considered that.

No, I’ll let that fucker sweat it out a little while longer. Maybe he’ll come to his senses in the morning. If not?

Well, I have no fucking clue.