Shimmering streaks of sunlight glint across my face making hues of red dance behind my eyelids. I stretch my hands up over my head and take a second to remember how I got into a bed that isn’t my own. I’ve never been the kind of girl who woke up to blurry memories of the man lying next to me in a stranger’s bed. Not that Connor is a stranger. Far from it. A smile kisses my lips and my eyelids flutter open as I roll over and look at how peaceful his face is when he’s sleeping. My fingers draw a line over his jaw, enjoying the soft scruff drag over my skin.

“Too early,” his voice creaks and he flips onto his back, flopping a pillow over his face.

I can’t help but laugh as I hear his light snores fill the air. Who knew that someone who spent so much time in the military wouldn’t be a morning person? I figured Connor would be up before the first roosters poked their heads out at dawn to tell the cow farmers to get milking.

I’ve got to pee. I should get my ass down that ladder. The image of Connor eating my pussy from behind while I clung onto the rails for dear life sweeps through my mind. It’s almost enough to push my thoughts of finding the bathroom out of my head.

The pregnancy test.

My stomach does a double backflip and I sit up straight as I feel the blood drain from my face. I never meant to shoplift it, but there was no way I could let Connor see what I was there for. I want to know for certain before I get into all of that with him. Things are complicated enough as it is.

I know I didn’t mean to steal it, but I’m glad I did. I may have never taken a pregnancy test before, but I know that you’re supposed to use your first pee of the morning. Now is as good a time as any while Connor is sleeping.

I pad across the loft and make my way down the ladder, quickly grabbing my purse and rushing into the bathroom. As the door clicks shut behind me, my heart pounds in my chest. I can hear the rhythm of my fear drumming in my ears.

I lean against the door and open my worn, leather purse, clutching the cardboard box in my hand. It takes an enormous amount of concentration to read the instructions as my thoughts ping-pong back and forth in my brain.

You’re pregnant. What are you going to do?

No, you’re not. Don’t be so dramatic.

Dramatic? Two months without a period isn’t dramatic, but the birth will be.

Stress can make you miss a period too.

So does sperm.

“Fuck!” I hiss at myself giving my head a shake as I fumble with the box and manage to pull one of the tests free.

It quakes in my hand as I look over at the toilet. “Okay, it takes five minutes to get results. Not too long.” I whisper to myself.

But it’s long enough that I should probably run the water so Connor thinks I’m getting cleaned up. The less questions I raise for him the better.

Quickly I run the water and turn on the shower, not caring about whether it’s hot or cold since I won’t be stepping in it. Instead I rush over the toilet and hold the stick between my legs as I pee over the tab.

There. It’s done. Now I just have to wait.

I finish peeing and place the plastic cap back over the end, holding my breath as I stare at the small digital screen.

Five minutes is an eternity when you’re waiting for a little digital readout to tell you what your future holds. One where you carry on as usual and the only thing to figure out is how to make Connor and I work when Marcus is still so angry with him. Or the future with diapers, night feedings and a baby daddy my brother despises.

I groan as the screen still hasn’t told me my fate. Picking up the test, I give it a little shake, knowing full well it won’t hurry it along, but wishing something would make this all go faster.

Suddenly the screen begins to morph and the bathroom handle jiggles loudly, making me yelp.

“Hey Charlotte, you never told me you were taking a shower. That would’ve got me up, I can’t wait to slide the soap all over your…”

Connor opens the door wide and I freeze in place as his eyes slide over me in confusion, and then lock on to the test on the counter.

“Is that? Oh no,” he rubs his hand over his dark hair. “Are you?” He steps inside as I step forward to the vanity and we peer down at the screen together, neither one of us breathing.

I blink but the words I’m reading don’t change. They stay as permanent and real as the baby I’m carrying inside me.

Pregnant: 6-8 weeks.