Her nose wrinkles up. “Nothing even sounds good. Besides, my stomach is kind of cramping and . . .”
As soon as she says the word cramps, the light bulb goes off. “Period?” I ask.
She shakes her head, and I touch her forehead. She doesn’t feel hot, not that I’m an expert, but clearly, something is going on. “What can I get you?”
“Nothing,” she says. “I’m too nauseous to eat anything.”
A year ago, that wouldn’t bring up any red flags, but I’ve spent the past nine months with Catrine, and I wasn’t kidding when I said she told me every symptom she had. My heart misses a few beats. “Could you be pregnant?”
“No,” she says, her blue eyes wide with fear, and her voice not sounding very sure. “I told you I’m on the pill.”
Isn’t the pill like ninety-something percent effective? It couldn’t have failed her twice—Finn and now? Then again, I never asked if she was on it before Finn.
She looks scared shitless. I don’t know what happened when she told Finn’s dad she was pregnant, but from the look on her face right now, I’d say it wasn’t good.
“Hey,” I say, taking her hand and pulling her into my lap on the bed. “It would be happy news if you were.”
She looks up at me. “Would it?”
Lightly, I place my hand on her flat stomach. “Very happy news.”
She starts giggling. “You’re insane. I’m not pregnant.”
“You could be,” I say.
“Stop saying that,” she says. “Finn isn’t even a year old.”
“I know you’ve been through this before,” I say, and she gives me a sad smile. “And if you are, I’ll be there with you the whole way. You won’t be alone this time.”
The tears start flowing.
“But no home births. Your sexy ass will be in a hospital where God intended babies to be born.”
That makes her laugh, and the tears seem to slow down a bit. She says, “Lots of babies are born at home and . . .” I kiss her hard on the lips to shut her up and feel her smile underneath my kiss. “What am I saying?” she says. “I’m not. I can’t be.”
“Only one way to find out,” I say.
“Slade,” she whispers, her blue eyes begging me to drop this.
*
These days, you can have pretty much anything delivered to your home with just a few pushes of a button—takeout food, groceries, dry cleaning, or in this case, pregnancy tests. Paige was freaking out. I wasn’t about to leave her for one second, not even to run to the store.
I don’t even want to know what the delivery person thought when they got the order for multiple pregnancy tests, all different brands. I didn’t know which one was best, so I got a variety.
Five pregnancy test sticks line the back of my toilet. The fact that these things come in packs of two is a clear indicator that no one takes just one. We’re almost a half dozen in, and even though they all indicate the same result, we still can’t seem to believe it.
“The line on that one doesn’t look very clear,” she says, pointing at number three.
“The box said any line is a positive result,” I tell her.
“The positive sign on that one looks more like an X. And an X would not be positive.”
She’s really starting to confuse me now. I point at the last one she did. “This one actually says ‘pregnant.’”
“I’m pregnant,” she says to herself as if she’s trying it on for size.
“Looks like,” I say, although I’ve been convinced she was pregnant since she told me she was nauseated. I didn’t need her to pee on a stick to confirm it, but apparently, that is what she needed. I hold up one more package. “Still have one more left. Want to make it an even half dozen?”
Her head shakes, and she repeats, “I’m pregnant.”
I keep waiting to hear some excitement in her declaration, but she just sounds confused. “I would’ve thought you’d have some idea. You’ve been through this before. Do you not feel the same way as you did with Finn?”
Her head shakes again.
“Paige,” I say, taking her hands. “Everything will be . . .”
“I had wine with dinner,” she says, squeezing my hands.
“I’m sure one glass this early on is . . .”
“I’ve been taking birth control pills.”
“We’ll get you a doctor’s appointment, but I’m sure that happens all the time and won’t hurt anything.”
“I didn’t eat anything green today,” she says, shaking her head at me.
This time, I can’t help but chuckle. “Well, that does it. Our baby will be born with three heads.”
Her lips purse together, trying to hold in a laugh. “I’m being crazy.”
“A little,” I say, hugging her.
“Slade,” she says softly. “Could we not tell anyone for a few weeks? I want to see the doctor first, get through the first trimester.”
“Sure,” I say. “Whatever you want.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
PAIGE
“You are definitely pregnant,” the doctor says, washing his hands. He’s a pretty old guy, tall with a lanky build. It’s my first time seeing him. In the past, I’ve just gone to clinics, never had a regular doctor. He’s the doctor who delivered Theo, so I figured he was reputable, and I was relieved to be able to get an appointment with him so quickly.
I just smile. What else can I do? “We can do an ultrasound today or in a couple of days if you’d like to wait on the baby’s father or . . .”
“He’s out of town working,” I lie. Now I even lie to my OB/GYN. Slade’s not out of town. He’s at the ranch with Finn. He doesn’t even know I’m here. He thinks my appointment is tomorrow. I truly am a terrible person for keeping him from this moment. I know he’s going to have to meet my doctor at some point, and I can’t ask my doctor to lie. My lies are catching up with me.
At least I was honest on my medical history forms. That’s something.
This past week, Slade has been so excited that we found out I’m pregnant. A part of me is, too. I love the idea of carrying his child, but I don’t love the idea of him finding out the truth about me.
My phone rings in my purse. “That’s probably him now,” the doctor says.
Picking up the phone, the doctor gives me a little wave as he leaves. “Just let the nurse know about the ultrasound.”
I answer the phone. “You’re never going to believe what Finn just said,” Slade says.
“What?” I ask.
“Where are you?” he asks. “The connection is bad.”
“The doctor’s office,” I say, feeling my stomach lurch. “They called me with a last-minute opening, so I took it.”
“But that’s supposed to be tomorrow,” he says.
“They asked if I wanted to come today, so I . . .”
“I’m on my way,” he says. And my heart breaks. He’s at least an hour away. There’s no way he’d make it, but he’d try like hell to get to me, just like he did the night of the tornado.