I never knew how long three minutes could last until right now. I pace back and forth in my bathroom, my stomach doing flip-flops. I try to distract myself by scrolling through social media, but it’s not helping. My alarm goes off and I turn over the test that I’ve laid face down on the counter.
Positive.
I stare at it, my mouth goes completely dry, and it feels like my vision is beginning to tunnel.
I’m pregnant.
I slide down the bathroom door, the test still in my hands as I try to come to terms with what this means. My phone buzzes and I reach over to grab it off the counter to see a text from Steph.
Steph: Hey, you end up taking one yet?
I stare at the message. I can’t even wrap my head around this. I’m not prepared for anyone else to know, so I lie.
Me: Hey, good news. I was just being paranoid like I figured. Test was negative.
10
Grant
“What’s with the scowl?” Steph stares me down as I roll the near-empty beer bottle in my hand. I glance up at her as she dries a set of highball glasses.
I don’t say anything. I just give her my fakest smile that curls my lips from ear to ear.
“Yeah, that’s not convincing. Come on.” She gestures with her hand as she slings the dish towel over her slender shoulder and leans against the bar top. “This is part of being a bartender—I’m also a therapist. So spill.”
“It’s your friend.” I lift the bottle to my lips and drain the rest of the beer that’s now lukewarm. Yuck.
“My friend? Oh, Leigh?” Her countenance falters a little when I nod. “What’s going on with you two now?”
“Well, nothing. That’s the problem.” She crosses her arms over her chest, waiting for me to explain. “Last time I saw her was here, over four weeks ago. She agreed to go on a second date with me and then she ghosted.”
“I’m sure she didn’t ghost you.”
“She did. I texted her a few days later to confirm we were still on, and she said yes. We had a few other exchanges over the last month, so I followed up two days ago . . . and nothing. I texted several times and called her, and again, nothing.”
I look at my watch. “I know she’s not at the gym now. I drove over there earlier and she’d left for the day. I just don’t get it.” I’m getting frustrated the more I talk about it. “Why agree to go out with me, confirm it, and then just not respond at tall? Fucking rude,” I mutter.
“Listen . . .” Steph reaches across the bar and places her hand on my forearm. I glance up at her and she continues, “That’s not like Leigh at all, so I’m sure she has a completely rational explanation. You just need to talk to her.”
I shake my head, laughing in frustration. “Oh, all I need to do is talk to her? Shit, if only I’d been trying to get ahold of her for the last few days.”
“Just give her a break, she’s go—”
“No,” I shake my head again, “she’s fucking disrespectful. Like my time isn’t important? Like it doesn’t matter? I’m a doctor for fuck’s sake. My time is worth more than gold.”
I’m aware that I sound like a prick, but I don’t care. My feelings and ego are both taking a beating through all this. I know part of it is the fact that I hate that I’m falling for her. I’m not pissed that I want her; she’s a delicious treat wrapped in spandex, after all. I’m not mad that even after just one night together, she’s already the best lay of my life. I’m pissed that despite her entitled upbringing and her snotty attitude, I’m falling for her and I’m terrified. Less than a year ago, another woman had my ring on her finger then it all fell apart. I’m not ready for that kind of commitment again.
“Well, when you get your head out of your ass for a second and are prepared to listen, I was trying to say that she’s having some health issues right now that are really weighing on her, so give her the benefit of the doubt to make things right with you when she feels ready.”
“Health problems?” I see her wince as soon as I repeat what she just said. She didn’t mean to let it slip and it’s written all over her face. “Like what? I’m a doctor, Steph.”
“Yes, I’m aware. We’re all aware.” She motions around the room with both hands. “Look, I didn’t mean to say that. She’d be pissed if she knew I told you, so please don’t say anything.”
“Is it serious?”
“No. Yes. I don’t know yet, but please, Grant . . .” Her eyes are pleading and I nod my head yes.
“Okay, fine, I won’t say anything to her, but I am going to go check on her.” I toss a few bills on the bar and reassure Steph that I won’t say anything to Leigh.
I get in my car and drive straight to Leigh’s apartment. I glance around the parking lot, but I don’t see her car. I suppose she could have a garage. I bound up the stairs, knocking on her door several times. I wait a few seconds but don’t hear anything on the other side.
“Leigh, you home? It’s Grant.” I knock several more times, but again, it’s met with silence. “I’m not mad. I just wanted to check on you and see if you’re okay.”
I wait several more minutes but a response never comes. I glance at my watch and it’s after 7 p.m. Maybe she had an evening class that I didn’t see on the schedule at the gym earlier.
I walk back down the stairs to my car. Tomorrow morning I’ll head to class and talk to her then.
“Good morning, everyone. My name is Marsha and I’ll be filling in for Leigh today. Let’s all take to our mats and start in child’s pose.”
Okay, this isn’t like Leigh at all to miss class. I try to push away all the terrified thoughts running through my mind and focus on my breathing and the movements Marsha is walking us through. But as soon as class is done, I grab my bag from the locker room and send a text to Leigh.
Me: Hey, just leaving class and you’re not here. What’s going on? Stopping by Bean & Bun to bring you breakfast and we’re going to talk.
I shove my phone in my pocket and rush to the bakery. This time, when I knock on Leigh’s apartment door with coffee and pastries in hand, it slowly opens to reveal a sheepish-looking Leigh on the other side.
“So you are alive?” I can’t help but smirk as she offers a slow eye roll, but then they land on the bag in my hand and she reaches for it. I quickly pull it away.
“Not so fast.” I hold it above my head as she scowls at me. “You going to let me in?”
She mulls it over for a second before stepping aside and opening the door a little wider. I step inside, looking around the tastefully decorated space. It’s small but modern. It smells like sweet cinnamon and vanilla, most likely coming from the large candle burning on the kitchen island. A few plants are sprinkled throughout the bright living room along with some framed minimalist art pieces.
“You prefer blueberry or banana?” I ask, pulling the giant crumb-topped muffins from the bag.
“Blueberry.” She pulls two small plates from a cabinet, placing them on the counter before reaching for the coffee. She takes a small sip, her lips curling a bit before she places it back down.