Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 89519 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89519 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
“What?” I ask, because his eyes haven’t left me and he’s making me nervous.
He shrugs, lips twitching like he knows something I don’t. “You’re cute when you’re pretending not to care.”
“I’m not pretending,” I lie. “Stop staring at me.”
He laughs. I huff, turn to wash my hands. Because now we’re in the waiting portion of this regularly scheduled panic program, and I need to occupy my body before my brain starts sprinting laps around the possibilities.
“It’s going to be negative,” I say aloud, mostly for myself. “I just wanted to be sure.”
“I know.”
I side-eye him. “How can you be certain?”
Maverick shifts his weight against the doorframe, gaze steady. “Because I found the first test.”
I do my best not to grin. Busted!
I knew he knew!
Still, he has the decency to look a little sheepish. “In the guest bathroom trash. Under like . . . one crumpled tissue. You’re not exactly covert, Annabelle.”
The towel dangles from my fingertips. “You’ve known this whole time, and you didn’t mention it?”
He nods once, trying hard not to laugh.
“You dick!” I scoff. “You let me take another one?” My voice climbs half an octave as I feign indignancy. “You watched me pee on another stick like we were discovering this together for the first time?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“I was being supportive. You seemed worried.”
“I was worried,” I admit, shoulders sagging, heat rising in my cheeks. “But not just about the test.”
His teasing expression fades. “Then what?”
I swallow hard, clutching the towel to my chest like a shield. “I felt bad for not telling you sooner. For hiding it. Even though it was just one test, I kept it from you, and that made me feel gross.”
“Hey.” Maverick steps closer, brushing a knuckle down my arm. “You don’t have to feel bad. It’s your body. You get to process things however you need to process them.”
“But we’re in this weird limbo where the world thinks we’re married, and we’re sleeping together, and we’re—whatever we are—and I just . . .” I struggle to find the words. “I didn’t want you to find out from the trash can that I’d thought maybe I was pregnant.”
His lips twitch again. “To be fair, the trash can told me very politely.”
I whack him lightly in the stomach with the hand towel. “This is not a joke.”
“I know, I know.” He snags one end of the towel and holds it hostage, pulling me forward to kiss me on the forehead.
We stand in silence, side by side in the bathroom, until my eyes drift toward the counter—where the second test is still sitting. Wrapped in toilet paper, poorly disguised.
I exhale. “Should we check it?”
Maverick nods. “If you want to.”
I shake my head and take a slow step forward. My hand hovers for a second before I peel back the tissue, expecting to see that single line.
I blink.
Then blink again.
Because there are not one but two very dark, very obvious blue lines staring back at me.
“Oh,” I whisper.
Behind me, Maverick tries to look over my shoulder. “What?”
I lift the stick higher without turning around. “Um. There are . . . two.”
He moves closer, squinting. “Two?”
“Lines,” I croak.
He says nothing. Neither do I.
We just stare at it, like the extra blue line is about to stand up and explain itself.
“Well,” he finally says, voice weirdly calm. “That’s not negative.”
Chapter 26
Maverick
Two lines.
Not faint. Not maybe. Not “give it a few more minutes.”
They’re there. Solid. Definitive.
Bright fucking blue.
I scratch the back of my neck, like that’ll help unfuck the wooden nickels rattling around in my brain. Newsflash: It doesn’t.
“Well, shit,” I murmur, because there’s really no other way to kick off this moment.
Annabelle is barely breathing, standing there holding her breath with wide eyes, and that’s when I realize she’s waiting for me to say something smart. Reassuring. Something adultlike.
Instead, what do I do?
I sit.
On the edge of the massive jet tub like my knees forgot how to keep me upright, hands on my face, dragging down my mouth. I let out a slow, stunned exhale.
Wow. Like—holy shit.
“We’re pregnant.” I say the words out loud.
At that, her gaze snaps to mine. “We?”
“Yes, Annabelle. We.”
Then she bursts out laughing. It’s loud, echoing against all the stone and marble tile, and she immediately claps a hand over her mouth.
“Sorry. I’m not laughing at this. It’s just—your face.”
“My face? You should see yours.”
She groans. “This is so not how I thought today would go.”
I stand again, slow and deliberate, and take the test from her fingers. “You thought it’d be negative.”
“I knew it would be negative,” she says, almost defensively. “I mean, I took one already. And I felt fine. There were no symptoms. Just a missed period, and sure, my boobs kind of hurt? Which happens! Sometimes! Like during stress. Or travel.” She lets out a dramatic groan as I stand and flops forward onto my chest like her bones have given out. “I don’t even know how to be pregnant, Maverick.”