“Oh my God,” I say, my voice soft and trembling. “Please tell me you're kidding me. Please, Dr. Aldric, tell me you’re fucking kidding me.”

She gives me a warm smile. “I'm afraid not, kiddo,” she says. “The tests are pretty conclusive.”

“But how? I mean, we were safe –”

“You know nothing is ever truly safe,” she says. “Nothing is ever one hundred percent.”

My head is spinning, and I feel like I'm going to throw up. This can't be happening. There is no possible way this can be happening. It would be the biggest kick in the ass the universe has ever given me. It can't be true. It can’t.

I shake my head. “It's only been a few weeks since the first time, Dr. Adric,” I say. “That can't possibly be right.”

She gives me a patient smile. “When we ran your bloodwork, we detected the presence of a hormone called human chorionic gonadotropin. HCG is a hormone that's released when a fertilized egg attaches itself to your uterine lining,” she says. “Meaning that HCG is only produced by pregnant women.”

I lay back on the table, my entire body shaking. I try to deny everything she's saying. I don't want to believe it. It can't be true. Dr. Adric puts a comforting hand on my shoulder and gives me a sympathetic smile.

“Obviously, this is unplanned,” she says. “There are many options available to you. If you'd like some resources –”

I look up at her, my head so jumbled, I'm barely able to make sense of what she's saying. I shake my head and slip off the table.

“I – I just need to think right now,” I say. “I just need to go home and think.”

She nods. “Of course,” she says. “Call me when you've had some time to process all of this. I'm here for you, Sasha.”

I try to give her a smile and fail, so I just shake my head. “Thank you, Dr. Adric.”

I stumble out of her office and get to my car. My hands are shaking so violently, it takes three times to get my key in the ignition. I finally get my car started and somehow, manage to make it home without killing myself or anybody else. Frankly, I'm moving around in such a fog, I don't know how I did it.

Dropping down onto the couch, I bury my face in my hands and sob. My entire body is practically convulsing with the force of my tears. Pulling my knees up to my chest, I wrap my arms around them and bury my face against my pants, letting my emotions take control.

“Hey, hey, what's wrong, Sash?”

I look up as Rosie sits down beside me. She puts her arm around my shoulder and pulls me to her. I melt into her and let her hold me as I cry. She strokes my hair and does her best to calm me down. Eventually, the sobbing grows less forceful, though the tears still roll down my face. She gives me a tight smile and gets up and heads into the bathroom, returning a moment later with a box of tissues.

“Do you want some coffee?” she asks.

“Just water, please,” I croak, my voice dry and brittle sounding.

She comes back and sets a glass of water down in front of me. I pick it up and drain half of it before setting it back down on the table again. Rosie sits cross-legged on the couch next to me, facing me with concern etched into her every feature. She cradles her cup of coffee in her hands, as if drawing warmth from it.

“I didn't know you were home,” I say. “I thought you'd be at Todd's.”

“He had to work, so I came home early,” she says. “Now tell me, what's going on?”

I look at Rosie, my fear and despair starting to rise up within me once again. She reaches out and puts a hand on my arm, giving me a gentle squeeze. I draw strength from her touch, but it still isn't enough. I'm overwhelmed by so many different, conflicting emotions, I can't seem to organize my thoughts into anything close to resembling coherency.

Taking a deep breath, I let it out slowly, doing what I can to slow my head and my heart. Doing what I can to calm myself down enough to tell her what's going on. It only takes a couple of minutes, but Rosie sits with me patiently, just waiting.

“I'm pregnant, Rosie,” I say, my voice quavering.

Just saying those words – those two little words – rocks me to my very core. It threatens to topple me over the edge, plunging me down into an abyss of despair once more. But I somehow manage to hold on.

“Pregnant?” she asks, her voice soft.

I nod, the tears rolling down my cheeks faster than I can wipe them away.

“And its Miles', I assume?”

I nod. I've already told her everything about Miles, from our first meeting in the airport – a story she really got a kick out of – all the way to where we are today.

Miles and I have been spending a lot of time together lately. After I'd agreed to that first date with him, I let myself fall into him – against my better, more sane judgment. But, he's charming. He’s kind. Yeah, he puts up a gruff, cold, and aloof facade for the world to see, but when we're alone, he's sweet. Caring. Miles practically worships me – something I've grown very fond of.

But this – this changes everything.

We've never talked about what the future holds for ourselves. And we certainly haven't talked about a future that involves children. To be honest, I don't know if he wants kids one day or not. We're not even close to being at the stage of our burgeoning relationship to have that kind of a discussion. Although we spend practically every waking minute together and we've grown a lot closer, I'm still leery of being open or vulnerable around him. Or anyone else for that matter. I'm still trying to find my footing with him and seeing if there really is a path forward for us.

Being pregnant with his child – and it can only be his child since I haven’t been with anyone else – is going to throw a wrench into everything. My heart feels like it's being torn in two because my feelings for Miles are strong, even though we’ve barely gotten started. I'm already attached to him.

Despite my best efforts, I've let myself get wrapped up in him – a fact I've been keeping to myself to avoid complicating everything.

“What are you going to do, Sash?”

I shake my head miserably. “I don't know,” I say. “I really don't.”

“Well, you have to tell him,” she says.

“I know,” I reply. “I just don't know how.”

“Do you love him?”

I shrug. “I don't know. Maybe? This is going to change everything, though.”

She nods. “It will,” she agrees. “But, if you two love each other, it doesn't have to be a bad thing.”

I shake my head. “I don't know how he feels,” I say. “Everything is still too new. We're not at that point in – whatever this is – to be declaring feelings for each other.”

She gives me a soft smile. “I have a feeling, given the way he relentlessly pursued you, that his feelings for you are just as strong as yours for him.”

“I don't know, Rosie,” I say. “I really don't.”

She squeezes my arm gently. “I'm not saying it has to be love right now,” she says. “But, give him a chance. You shouldn't have to go through this alone. I'm here for you. You know I always will be. But I think this is something the two of you need to share as well. You need to let him be there for you too. I have a feeling he'll want to be.”

I scrub the tears away from my face and nod. “Yeah,” I say, sniffing loudly. “You're right. I know you're right.”

“When are you seeing him again?”

“Tonight,” I say.

“Perfect,” she replies. “Talk to him. Open up to him, Sash. I have a feeling it will go a lot better than you think.”

I look at her and try to give her a smile. Rosie is really a romantic at heart. She believes in the power of love to conquer all. She's an eternal optimist. Always has been. It's one thing I've always loved and appreciated about her.

But, something like this – something that is going to alter not just my life, but Miles' life too – I'm not feeling as optimistic as she does. I want to believe that there could be a happily ever after for us. I just can’t. I've never seen one and have never expected to have one of my own. For me, life has never worked like that and I don't see that changing anytime soon.

“Everything is going to be okay,” she says, pulling me into a tight embrace. “You'll see. It's all going to be okay.”

I really want to believe her. With everything in me, I want to believe her. But, life has proven to me, over and over again, that I can't.