I knew.
I just knew, and the anxiety was too much to not see proof on a little stick.
I took my first pregnancy test before we left for the trip, but of course, it was too soon then. It hadn’t even been a full week since Brandon and I had returned from St. John. But that last night of the bachelorette, when Cassie was wailing over kissing a stranger, and Erin was fuming over something she wouldn’t tell us about, and Skyler was getting railed by Kip somewhere across the resort, and Jess was swiping between two photos of the men she loves… I felt it again.
That kick in my chest.
That stirring in my gut.
I just knew it was time to take the test again.
And when I did, the word pregnant showed up on the little screen just like I knew it would.
Since then, I’ve taken multiple tests, just to be sure — and it’s been the same result every time. There’s no denying it.
I have a little human growing inside me.
A smile spreads on my lips, warmth washing over my soul at the thought, and then I’m jerked out of the water and back to reality.
“Ashlei! Jesus Christ, are you okay? What are you doing?”
I wipe the water out of my eyes to find a worried Brandon holding me by the arms — careful of my still-healing shoulder — and searching my eyes like he’s sure he just saved me from a suicide attempt.
“I’m taking a bath. Wanna join?”
“You were under water.”
I shrug. “It’s just quiet.”
He sighs, releasing me and taking a seat on the edge of the tub. He pinches the bridge of his nose, laughing a little as he shakes his head. “God. Sorry. I just… I thought…”
“I hate physical therapy, but I don’t hate it that bad,” I tease.
He gives me a grim smile. “It’s just… you’ve been different lately. You’ve been… distant.”
I grimace. “I know.”
“Did I do something? Did I… did we rush into getting married and now you’re regretting it?”
I balk, sitting up so fast some of the water splashes onto the edge of the tub. “Oh, my God, no. Of course not.” I squeeze his forearm. “Baby, I’m the happiest I’ve ever been now that I’m Mrs. Church.”
His shoulders release again, and he covers my hand with his. “Is it your shoulder?”
I chew my lip, knowing I can’t keep it from him any longer.
All I can do is pray this won’t be the end of our fairy tale.
“My shoulder is sore,” I confess. “PT is kicking my ass. But… there’s something else. Something I need to tell you.”
“Okay…” Brandon swallows. “Tell me. Anything.”
I take a long breath, releasing it fully before I grab his hand in mine. Slowly, I sink it into the water, pulling him forward a little until he’s touching my stomach.
He frowns at first, and then heat glosses his eyes, those dark irises flashing with want when he looks at me again. He smirks, just a little, and slides his hand down farther.
“Is this what you want, Mrs. Church?” he asks, his fingers brushing against my clit as he leans in for a kiss.
My pussy flutters at the touch, legs clenching, but I laugh in his face before pulling his hand back up. “No, pervert.” I pause. “Well, at least, not right now. Hold that thought. First…” I hold his hand to my stomach again, pressing my palm over his and holding it there.
He looks down at the water, at where he’s holding me, frowning when he finds my gaze again. “I don’t understand.”
I swallow, applying a little more pressure so that his palm is splayed flat against my belly. My eyes search his under lifted brows, waiting, not able to say the words.
And just like it did for me, I see the exact moment it hits him.
His frown disappears, the line between his eyebrows wiped clean as his eyes double in size. His lips part, gaze falling to my stomach before slowly crawling back up to my eyes.
“You’re…”
“Pregnant,” I finish for him, and my eyes water with the admission, with the weight of releasing the truth. I nod. “Yes.”
He lets out a short breath through his gaping mouth, but it’s slack, no emotion one way or another evident in his eyes or lips. He looks as if he’s seen a ghost, or has just been told the meaning of life and finds it impossible to fathom.
His eyes slowly trail down again, sticking to the spot where his hand is pressed against my stomach. His fingers curl, just a centimeter, the tips of them indenting my skin softly.
Then his eyes snap to mine, brimming with tears, and he makes that same sound again — the short puff of air through his open mouth.
Only this time, it’s a laugh.
“You’re pregnant,” he whispers, the first tear slipping free. It falls so quickly off the apple of his cheek that I don’t even have time to reach for it.