Bev had dropped off the drug-store packet in relative silence. She’d given me the look—the “what the hell did you do?” look—then left me in peace.

I was grateful for it.

We’d only just mended our friendship, and if this was positive… god knew what kind of reaction she’d have. Oh god, what kind of reaction I’d have.

I held the box in both hands, staring at the depiction of a positive pregnancy test on the front. My stomach turned, and I set it down on the bathroom counter, squeezed my eyes shut for a second.

Carly was already in bed, a kiss planted on her forehead, a story read. I’d waited the half an hour to check she was asleep before entering the bathroom with this cursed box in my hand. Now, there were no excuses left.

“Bryan could be home any second,” I whispered and lifted a bottle of water from the counter. I unscrewed the cap and chugged some of it. I’d been doing that all evening to work myself up to a pee for this stick. You’ve got to do this now. It’s not going to help you standing here, waiting for it. You’ve just got to do it.

I removed the packaging fast then scanned through the instructions, committing them to memory. “OK,” I muttered, “OK. Let’s do this.”

I did the actual peeing on the stick with a grimace, then capped it again, set it on the counter, and cleaned myself up, flushed the toilet. “OK,” I said again, “OK. OK. That part’s done. Now it’s just the wait. Three minutes. Yep, everything will be fine. Let’s get real here. It’s probably negative.” I set my phone’s alarm for three minutes.

And that was true.

I’d had a dumb pregnancy scare before when I was younger, and it had been the result of stress. My period had come literally two days after I’d taken the damn test. And stressing about being pregnant had only made the wait longer.

God knew, I’d had enough stress the past few months.

And I was on the pill.

I’d taken it every night at the same time, hadn’t I?

“Oh god, did I?” I gripped my forehead, thinking back as far as I could. I hadn’t noticed any of my pills leftover. But there might’ve been a time I’d taken one late. But surely…

The timer blipped, and I shut it off, hurriedly, lifted the stick, and took in the result.

Pregnant.

3 weeks.

“Oh. My god. Oh shit.” I dropped the test on the counter, then fumbled it up again. Shook it once as if that would make a difference. “Oh, shit.”

This was a big deal. This was impossible.

How would Bryan react to this? How would Beverly?

Oh god, and poor Carly?

I took the test and closed my palm around it, grabbed the packaging too, then shoved it inside. I had to figure out what to do next. Obviously, tell Bryan, not that I had any idea how that conversation would go, or what the hell I’d say, but that was definitely the first step.

And then?

What would we do? What would I do?

Keep it, of course.

There was no question I’d have this baby. Even if Bryan wanted nothing to do with me, with the little one’s life, I’d keep it. It was that simple.

Th realization settled around my shoulders, and my panic was replaced by resolve. I pressed my free hand to my abdomen. All right, so maybe my panic wasn’t fully gone, after all. It was still a huge shock. Regardless, I had to get a grip on this situation.

I exited the bathroom and made my way down the main stairs and into the kitchen. I flipped open the lid of the trash can, moved some of the old peels and papers aside and buried it deep. Until I was ready to tell Bryan, I didn’t want him to find out—at least not by opening the trash to throw away a yogurt cup and getting the scare of his life.

I closed the lid again then walked over to the sink and washed my hands in it, my reflection staring at me in the darkened window.

Outside, everything was quiet. Inside, it was turmoil.

No matter how much I wanted to believe that I could do this on my own, it terrified me. Marcus was still out there, clearly hadn’t forgiven or forgotten, and now Bryan was involved too.

Nothing was simple. I had to figure this out, and fast.