Chapter 20

Katie

Six weeks later.

“It can’t be true,” I said and held out my hand. “Pass me another one.”

“Sure,” Sam replied from her perched on the edge of the tub in her bathroom. She ripped open the cardboard box and drew out the foil-plastic packaging, then tore that open with her teeth. “But I gotta tell you, Katie, I think three positive pregnancy tests is a fairly good indicator that you are, in fact, with child.”

“With child,” I said, and took the pee stick from her, shaking my head. “With child.”

Samantha tucked her cherry red hair behind one ear and sighed, fluttering makeup laden lashes at me. She’d come straight from a meeting with her publicist, having decided that this was way more important.

That was exactly why I loved her. Sam always had my back. Even if having my back meant telling me the hard truth—including this one, that I was… “with child.”

“Oh my god,” I whispered. “Oh my god. It’s got to be a false positive.”

“Three false positives?” Sam asked, pointing to the accusing tests, all lined up neatly on the edge beside her. She was a little anal that way. She liked things to be orderly, at least in her home. The rest of her life was chaos.

“Ugh, I don’t think I can pee again yet,” I said and shifted my bare butt on the cold porcelain.

Sam lifted the huge bottle of OJ she’d bought on her way to pick me up at my place and unscrewed the cap, then handed it over. “This kind of reminds me of when we were in college and you downed three shots of tequila in like a minute, and then I had to hold your hair back for the next fifteen minutes.”

“Hey, fifteen minutes has to be some kind of record,” I replied, and glugged back the OJ. I coughed and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. “I mean, some people take hours in there when things aren’t feeling, right.”

“You’re a very efficient puker, I’ll give you that,” Sam said.

“Ugh, don’t say ‘puke.’ It makes me want to.”

“Out of stress? Or morning sickness?” She asked.

“Don’t make me whack you over the head with this bottle. There’s plenty of juice left inside. It’ll hurt.”

“I believe it.”

We fell into silence while I waited for the juice to race through my system and provide me with enough urine to go.

“What are you going to do?” Sam prompted.

I squished around on the toilet seat, but I still didn’t need to pee. It would’ve been the perfect way to buy myself time to think about the answer to that very question – the same one which’d been rattling around in my mind for the past week, ever since I’d missed my period.

“I just don’t understand how this happened,” I said. “I’m on the pill. I mean, I was on the pill until this happened. I just don’t get it.”

“The pill is only 92% effective,” Sam said, sagely. “Why do you think I have one of those horrible hook things instead?”

“An IUD?”

“That’s the one.”

“Wait, wait, wait a second,” I said. “Did you just say ‘92% effective?’ I’m pretty sure it’s 98%.”

“No, no, that’s during the clinical trials. In actual practice, like, in real life? It’s more like 92. But, I mean, that’s still only an 8% chance that you’ll get pregnant. You took your pill every night, right?”

“Apart from the night I was kidnapped, yeah,” I said, my heart already sinking. Oh god, and we’d had sex the day after. That had to be the reason.

“Did you have to get shots before you left for the islands? You know, like disease shots for malaria or whatever?”

“No.”

“Then it was probably the night you missed it,” she said, matter-of-factly. Yeah, Sam was another pragmatist in my life. She brushed off her pencil skirt, popped her elbow onto her thigh, and rested her chin on her fist. “When did you take it again?”

“The next night,” I whispered. “Oh god, it’s true. It’s totally— Oh, I’m ready to pee.” I popped the cap off the pregnancy test, then did the business.

Three minutes later, the results were in.

“Positive,” Sam said and flashed me the test. “That’s four positive tests and a missing pill. I think this is conclusive information, hon. You’re knocked up. Bun in the oven. A baby in the—”

“No more analogies,” I said, and waved a hand at her. “I get it. I’m pregnant. Oh god, I’m actually pregnant.”

“It’s not a disaster.” Sam reached over and squeezed my forearm. “So, can you get off the toilet now?”

“Yeah.” I wiped, flushed, and washed my hands, then turned and leaned against the sink, shaking my head. “This is— It’s insane. This is the last thing I expected.”

“It’s a good thing, though, right?”

I didn’t answer. Instead, I collected the pregnancy tests and placed them in the trash, then walked out of the bathroom. My stomach was in knots. This wasn’t a disaster, but it was totally out of left field. And this was Logan’s child. Logan’s!

“Katie?” Samantha had followed me out into her living room.

I flopped down on her sofa and stared out of the window which looked out on downtown Manhattan. It was so full of life, people going about their business, and here I was, sitting, pregnant on my best friend’s sofa.

It’d taken all my strength over the course of the past few weeks not to call Logan. Every second thought was about him and the time we’d had together, but the fact was that what we’d had had been based on lies and… god, I’d run out of excuses.

Sam sat down next to me and pulled me into a hug. “Hey,” she said, “it’s going to be okay. You know that, right?”

“How do I know that?” I said into her hair.

She pulled back and studied me at arms’ length, eyes narrowed almost to slits. “I’ve never known you to be negative, Jinx. What’s up with that?”

“It’s just so goddamned complicated. I mean, this is the guy who I didn’t ever plan on seeing again.”

“Uh-huh, yeah, the same guy you just so happen to talk about every other sentence. Seriously, it’s been over a month, and you’ve spoken about him more than you have about being abducted by a mafia boss. That’s got to mean something.”

“That I’m crazy?”

“No, that you belong together. Or that you should at least give it a shot. Especially now that you’re about to have his baby.”

“About to! It’s… it’s months until I’m ‘about to.’”

“You know what I mean,” Sam said. “Look, you’re obviously more into this man than you want to let on. Let’s be real here, you have to tell him regardless.”

“Of course, I know that. I just— I want to be sure first. Or, I want to have proof. More proof than just a pregnancy test.”

“Four,” she said, and held up the corresponding amount of fingers, “pregnancy tests.”

“You know what I mean. A proper doctor’s appointment.”

“Good idea. Let’s schedule one, right now.” Sam leapt to her feet and hurried to her kitchen where she’d left her handbag. “Danny’s sister is an OB-GYN. She might be able to fit you in on short notice. This is so damn exciting!” Sam let out a muted squeal. “I can’t even— You’re going to be a mom\! And I’m going to be an auntie… Yeah, hello? Yeah, I need to make an emergency appointment for this afternoon.”

I tuned out Sam’s phone conversation and ran a hand over my abdomen. “A mommy,” I whispered.

And Logan was the father.