“I’m done,” I whine, dropping my head on the table.

Abby and I arrived at the library at eight o’clock this morning, scheduled our state boards, and have been studying ever since. My brain is fried, I’m exhausted, and did I mention my brain is fried? After I take this test, I’m going to sleep for days.

“Oh no you’re not.” Abby grabs my ponytail and pulls my head out of the textbook. “We’ve still got women’s health to study.”

“I can’t. I’m so tired I can’t see straight. Literally. My vision is going wonky from staring at these stupid books all day.”

“Come on, I’ll go through some review questions with you, and then you can quiz me.”

“What do I get if I agree to this?”

“Besides being prepared?”

I nod, and she rolls her eyes.

“I’ll take you to Ricardo’s for a pizza.”

“Sold.” I shove the study guide over to Abby and close my eyes as she asks the first question.

“Define infertility.”

“Inability to conceive after one year of regular intercourse, two to three times a week without using contraception.”

“Good. List three things that can alter a man’s fertility.”

“STDs. Radiation or chemotherapy. And…elevated scrotal temperature due to tight-fitting underwear.”

“And alcohol,” she adds.

“You said three things. I gave you three things.”

“I know, crab ass. I was just throwing that out there so you would know.”

“Sorry.” I give her my best puppy-dog look, and she waves me off.

“Let’s keep going. What is placenta previa?”

“It’s when the placenta grows along the lowest part of the uterus, covering all of or part of the cervix.”

“What is the main symptom of placenta previa?”

“Bleeding.”

“What are the most common presenting complaints of vaginitis?”

“Vaginal burning, itching, pain, discharge, and inflammation.”

She nods. “You’re nailing these.”

“Good. Your turn.” I snag the study guide. “What are common symptoms women present with early in pregnancy?”

“Sore breasts.”

She taps her pencil on the table, thinking, and I rub an arm absently over my chest, remembering how tender my breasts were when Lincoln squeezed them the other day.

“Nausea. Unusually emotional or weepy. Fatigue. Bloating, and—”

“Missed period,” I breathe.

“I thought I was answering these.”

“You are. Abby?”

She lifts a brow.

“I think I might be pregnant.”

Her eyes widen. “What was that?”

“I think I might be pregnant.” I look down at my flat stomach. No way. But… “I’ve been tired and emotional and my boobs hurt…” My words trail off as I think about how sick I got when I smelled the onions on my cheeseburger.

“You’re tired and emotional because you’re stressed out about this test, and we’ve been studying our asses off, and your boobs probably hurt because you’re getting ready to start your period.”

“Yeah,” I mumble, reaching for my phone. “You’re probably right.”

“You and Lincoln use condoms, right?” she whispers.

“No. Not anymore.”

“But you’re on birth control?”

I nod. “Haven’t missed a dose.”

“Then you’re good. There’s no way you could be pregnant.” She watches me pull up the calendar on my phone and flip through it. “Right?”

“Wrong.” The floor drops out from under me, and my heart starts hammering inside my chest. “Oh God, wrong. Wrong, Abby,” I say, thrusting the phone in her face. “That red x is when I should’ve started my period. Three weeks ago.”

“Calm down. You’ve been irregular before.”

“No. I’m always on time. Always. You’re the one who’s irregular. Shit. Shitshitshit. How did I miss this?”

“You’ve been busy.” Abby stands, and with ease and grace I wish I possessed in this moment, she gathers our papers and books from the table and stuffs them into our bags.

“What are you doing?”

“We’re going to go buy you a pregnancy test.”

“What? No.” I shake my head and then repeat myself. “No.”

“What do you mean, no? How else are we going to find out if you’ve got a baby baking in that oven of yours?”

“There is no baby in my oven,” I hiss. “I don’t even have a damn oven.”

“You have an oven.”

“There is no oven.”

“Enough with the oven,” she shouts, quickly looking around the library to make sure no one heard her. “Let’s go before we get kicked out.”

It’s a good thing Abby drove here, because my whole body is numb. By the time we make it to the drug store, I’ve got my head buried between my knees because I’m seconds away from hyperventilating. I don’t even remember the drive back to Lincoln’s. I finally look up when Abby says my name.

“Huh?”

“Come on, we’re here.” She opens my car door and drags me inside. “What time does Lincoln get home?”

“Not for a while. I’m supposed to meet him at his dad’s later.”

“Good. Here. Go take the test. I bought three.”

“Why three?”

“Because everyone knows if the first one is positive, it’s probably wrong, and you’ll need two more to confirm it.”

“Good thinking.”

“I’ve got your back. Always. Now go.”

But I don’t. I stand there with the plastic bag in my hands and stare at the bathroom door.

“What are you waiting for?”

“I don’t want to do it alone.”

Abby grabs the bag from my hands and leads me to the bathroom. She rips the box open and hands me a stick. “Here.”

I look at the pregnancy test in my hand like it’s a bomb about to go off.

“I love you, Ads, but I am not holding that while you pee on it.”

“I know,” I mumble. “I’m just trying to get up the courage.”

“Take as long as you need.”

“What if it’s positive?”

Abby’s face softens. She grabs my shoulders and smiles. “One thing at a time, okay? Let’s worry about that if it’s positive. It’s probably going to be negative, and you’re worrying over nothing.”

“You’re right. Let’s do this.” I shut the door, pee on the stick as described on the box, set the stick on the back of the toilet, and walk out.”

“Well?”

“It takes ten minutes.”

I set a timer on my phone, and we wait and wait and wait. It’s the longest ten minutes of my entire life, and when the alarm sounds, Abby looks at me.

I try to make my legs move, but they won’t. Because I’m not sure I want to know. If I’m pregnant, my entire world is about to change. So is Lincoln’s. I’m not ready for this. He’s not ready for this. We’re not ready for this. For fuck’s sake, we’ve only been officially dating for one week. We’re in the honeymoon phase, not the baby-making phase.

“You gonna go look?”

“Will you do it for me?” I ask.

Abby squeezes my arm and steps into the bathroom.

My heart is beating so fast, I feel like it’s going to fly right out of my chest. And when Abby walks out of the bathroom and I see those two lines, my throat constricts so tightly I feel like I can’t breathe.

“No.” I push away from the wall, grab the stick, and toss it in the trash. “It’s wrong. That’s a false positive. I’m not pregnant.”

“Oh, Adley.” Abby looks at me like I’m a fragile doll who just broke.

But I’m not fragile, and I’m not broken, and I am most certainly not pregnant.

“I’m not,” I insist. “I’m on birth control, and I take it regularly. I know it’s not one-hundred-percent effective, but this has to be a mistake.”

“That’s why I bought three.”

“They’re going to be negative.”

She nods, but I know it’s just to appease me. “Okay.”

I march into the bathroom and kick the door shut. I rip open the package and lay a towel out on the sink. I tug my pants to my ankles and sit down to pee on a stick for the second time.

“And when they are negative, you’re taking me for that pizza you promised me, and I’m going to have a giant glass of wine.”

“Three glasses,” she shouts from the other side of the door.

Three glasses of wine and a pizza. That sounds pretty damn good. With a deep, cleansing breath, I shove both sticks between my legs and do my business. When I’m done, I set the sticks on the towel, wipe, and pull up my pants.

I’m standing at the sink, washing my hands when Lincoln’s big brown eyes pop into my head. I wonder if our baby will have his eyes. Or maybe mine? There’s a flutter of excitement in my belly, and I close my eyes, imagining a brown-haired, brown-eyed little girl with bouncy curls running through the yard, Lincoln chasing after her. He reaches for her, she squeals, and when I open my eyes and look in the mirror, I’m smiling.

That smile fades when I look at the pregnancy tests. I suck in a sharp breath and blow it out as the tests reveal what I already know.

“Shit,” I whisper. My legs are weak and shaking, and I lower the toilet seat so I can sit down before I fall.

“You okay in there?” Abby asks.

I shake my head as the first tear falls. “No,” I croak, my voice thick and weird sounding.

The door bursts open and Abby takes in the two positive tests on the sink.

“I can’t be pregnant,” I cry, shaking my head. “There are so many things I have to do, like pass that damn test and get a job. Who’s going to hire a pregnant woman?”

“There are lots of places that will hire a pregnant woman.”

“And what about Lincoln? He’s going to freak out.”

“You don’t know that. Lincoln is a level-headed man. I’m not sure he knows what it means to freak out.”

“I’m having a baby with a man who hasn’t even said he loves me,” I lament. “We’re barely dating, nowhere close to talking about marriage. I don’t even know that he wants kids.” I wipe away another set of tears. They just keep coming, and I’m not sure if it’s because I’m scared, overwhelmed, or secretly happy because even though this is the last thing I want right now, it’s a baby.

A baby.

I’m going to be a mother.

My hand goes to my stomach, and I look down, wondering how big the little bean is. I can’t pinpoint a time when I would’ve gotten pregnant because we’ve always been so careful.

“Do you love him?” Abby asks.

Warmth fills my heart, and I don’t even have to think about it. “So much. I think I’ve loved him since I first laid eyes on him.”

“Have you told him that?”

I look at Abby and shake my head. “No.”

“Maybe that’s where you should start.”

This isn’t ideal, but it’s our reality. And it’s not like this baby wasn’t conceived out of love. Lincoln himself said not too long ago that what we’re doing is so much more than sex. Suddenly, the urge to see him and hold him and tell him how I feel hits hard and strong.

“I love him. I’m in love with him.”

“Yeah you are,” she says, giving the air a little punch.

“And I don’t love him because of the baby, but because of how caring and strong he is. Because of the way he looks at me and holds me and touches me. I love his smile and his eyes and the way he curls his head into my touch when I run my fingers through his hair.”

Abby wipes away a tear, and I pull her in for a hug. We’re interrupted when my phone vibrates. I get a kick of adrenaline when I see a text from Lincoln.

Chloe asked if we wanted to go get dinner with her. You in?

Absolutely. Where?

He sends me the name and address of a restaurant I’ve never heard of. I tuck my phone in my pocket and grab my purse.

“Where are you going?”

“To have dinner with Lincoln and Chloe.”

“Oh, I see how it is. Blow off the best friend who just bought you pregnancy tests and held you while you cried.”

“Crap. Abby, I’m so sorry. I wasn’t thinking. Let me text him back.”

She quickly waves me off. “I’m just giving you a hard time. Go. Have dinner with the baby daddy and future sister-in-law. I’ll just hit up Ricardo’s on my way home.”

“Are you sure? You can come with us, if you’d like.”

“I’m positive. Are you going to tell him about the baby?”

“Of course, but not tonight. I need to process it first. Maybe tomorrow night after Chloe’s party.”

I smile through my tears, which I think are mostly happy now. It’s hard to tell since this is all so fresh.

Abby follows me out. I lock the front door and turn to give her a giant hug. “Thank you for helping me through this. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“I don’t know what you’d do without me either. Now, go get your man.”

I kiss her cheek and jog toward my car.

“Careful,” she hollers. “You’re pregnant. You don’t want to fall.”

“Shit, you’re right. Sorry,” I whisper to the baby, slowing to a walk.

Abby opens her car door at the same time I open mine. “I better be the godmother,” she yells.

“Abby!”

“Right. Sorry. Go.”