She couldn’t explain it. Or lie about it, either. Which meant she had to deal with it. Tamara wouldn’t let her hide or kid herself or pretend.
Stabbing lettuce with her fork, she bowed her head.
Braden called twice while she was out to lunch. Having already taken a longer break than normal, Mallory didn’t take the time to call him right back. She threw herself into caring for the children, playing with them, watching over them, evaluating and helping her teachers wherever she could. She did what she did and she did it well.
Braden hadn’t left a message. There was no emergency. He was probably calling to tell her his offer had been accepted. She wasn’t ready to hear the news. Didn’t trust herself to sound happy about it. She truly wanted him to get on with his life, because she wanted him to be happy. He was a good man, always giving of himself where he could, reliable to the core, conscientious and tending to those in his world—tenants included. He deserved to be happy.
By his definition, being happy meant being busy doing what he was driven to do.
So, yes, he needed to get on with his life.
And she needed to take her pregnancy test. If she wasn’t pregnant, she wanted to get another appointment scheduled as soon as possible. So, thinking, she didn’t even stop at the end of her drive to check her mail when she got home. After heading straight into the garage, she let herself in through the kitchen, dropped her bag on the counter and without bothering to turn on lights made her way to the bathroom in her master suite. The test was on the counter where she’d left it after the morning’s mental debate, waiting for her.
She read the box first, then opened it and read the pamphlet inside. It had been five years since she’d done a home pregnancy test. Not much had changed.
The one difference was this test would show her how many weeks it had been since conception with 90 percent accuracy. She didn’t need that information as she knew conception and time, down to the minute. If she’d conceived.
But she could at least vouch for the test’s accuracy.
Maybe.
Or be more certain that it wasn’t a false positive if it also got the conception right. Right?
She had to quit vacillating on when to take the damned test. She had to get on with her life.
Make it what she wanted and needed.
Stalling was done. And in less than thirty seconds so was the test. She’d waited all day to do it, and now the wait for results seemed to take a year. Weak in the knees she sat on the closed commode, picked up her phone and returned Braden’s call.
His news would distract her. Put things in perspective.
It wasn’t like this was her only shot to have a baby. A no answer just meant she’d have to wait another month.
He didn’t pick up.
And she wasn’t pregnant.
* * *
As soon as Braden could excuse himself from his business dinner at his hotel with a couple of key investors, he took the elevator straight up to his suite and called Mallory.
Was she pregnant? He was expecting a yes. They’d had no trouble getting pregnant the first time. To him the conception part was a given. How she felt about it was the question. Now that it was happening, was she sure she could handle it?
Or was she worrying already about the future fate of her unborn child?
And if she was, what could he do about it?
She picked up on the fourth ring. “The test was negative, which was to be expected,” she said in lieu of hello. “I’ll call the clinic in the morning and schedule the next procedure.”
She said it like she was discussing having the carpets cleaned.
“I’m sorry.” He was, for her. And sorry for the relief he felt, too.
“They said to expect up to six months for it to take,” she reminded him.
“You’re taking it well.” Why that surprised him, he wasn’t sure. Other than Tucker’s death, Mallory had always taken life in stride. It came from growing up in foster care, he’d figured.
“It’s a process,” she told him. “I knew that going in. I’ve had all the tests. There’s no reason to believe I won’t conceive.”