“Let me have that.” I tugged it from his hand and held it farther from my eyes.
The two pink lines were clear. They weren’t faded. There was no question they were there.
I looked at Jeremy. “How? Where was this? I don’t understand.”
“I left it on the bathroom counter last night after you ran upstairs. I meant to throw it in the trash but I never went back in there. I was looking for something to open the wine. And there it was. Like that. Two pink lines. Two. You’re pregnant, Evie.”
I shook my head. I wanted him to stop saying that. “I don’t believe it. Something is obv
iously wrong with the test. This isn’t supposed to happen.”
“Then take another one.” Jeremy ran out of the room before I could protest. He jogged back up the stairs, carrying the plastic bag from the pharmacy. “Here. Take another one. Take all of them.”
I stared at him. “No. I can’t.”
“You have to.” He tore into one of the boxes, shredding the cardboard into pieces on my bedroom floor. He was ready to rip the plastic wrapping. “Let’s try a different brand. The digital ones look cool. I think I trust a computer screen more than a sheet of litmus paper.”
“Stop.” I thought I sounded like a wild animal. I blinked. “Tonight has been so much fun. It was almost magical. This will ruin everything. I’m going to look back on our party and remember a second failed pregnancy test instead of a night dancing with you. I can’t go through it again. I just can’t.”
“I know you’re pregnant.”
“No you don’t,” I argued. I looked at the positive test in my lap. I tried to come up with reasons that it would have produced two pink lines after I read it yesterday.
“We went to the party believing you weren’t pregnant. We came home with that same belief. So what if it’s negative again? We are no different than we were five minutes ago. We just move on to what our plan was for the night.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Either way it’s going to be an incredible night together.” His current state of sexiness was infuriating.
“You are trying to be logical. There is no logic during those minutes we have to wait. For three minutes I have hope. I go through every scenario. Telling my parents. Decorating a nursery. Registering for a baby shower. Buying maternity clothes. Eating ice cream at 3 am. Birth classes. Holding my baby. All of that happens in three minutes.”
“I can’t make you take the test. But I’m asking you. Please. Evie, please will you take it? For me?”
Well holy shit.
“And when I start crying again?” I rose from the bed.
“I’ll make you laugh.”
“And when I want to drink that entire bottle of Malbec?” I took the wrapper from him.
“I’ll pour as many glasses as you want.”
I pressed my lips together, pausing in front of the bathroom door.
He looked excited. He looked anxious. He was my partner in this. I wasn’t alone trying to get pregnant and Jeremy had reminded me of that.
“Go ahead and pour a glass for me. I’ll be out soon.” I locked the door behind me before I could back out.
I’m not pregnant. I’m not pregnant. I’m not pregnant. I repeated it on a loop. I had to do this for Jeremy. We could put the faulty test behind us once he saw the results on this one. This would prove what I already knew—there was something very wrong with me. The doctors in Atlanta hadn’t been able to find anything, but I knew it had to be there. A lazy ovary. Not enough estrogen or testosterone. Maybe too much of both. An uninhabitable uterus. Or Frannie was right. I drank way too much caffeine and too much alcohol. Not enough yoga or meditation. I was either on my feet too much as a waitress or too sedentary as a writer. Which one was it? I was willing to try cleaner eating, but I knew it wouldn’t change anything. My thirty-year-old body didn’t want to get pregnant. It had officially revolted against everything my heart wanted.
I exhaled and placed the cap on the test. I washed my hands. I was still wearing the beaded gown from the party. My makeup was worn off and the lipgloss had been kissed away in the back of the car.
“I have two glasses for you when you’re ready.” Jeremy knocked on the door.
“Thanks.” I unlocked the knob and walked into the bedroom.
“Should I set the timer?” he asked, handing me a glass. He stood in his black boxer briefs. Maybe I should pass the time counting his ab muscles.
“I don’t want you to be disappointed.” The positive test was on the bed where I left it. “That test is broken. I don’t want tonight to be ruined because you think you found something that’s really a false positive. Tests don’t work like that, Jer.”
He smiled. “It’s not ruined, baby.” He brushed his lips over mine. His mouth was distracting. I tried to focus on how firm and warm his kisses were. How possessive he was with my body. How I loved his tongue. How he tasted like expensive bourbon. How the heat of his body pressed through the bodice of my gown.