“Beau may not be able to say the words, but he makes you happy. And you make him happy. I see it, and I’m looking with very clear eyes. Since I’ve known you all my life, I know you wouldn’t be happy in an emotionally vacant relationship.”
“It’s true. Despite all the walls he’s erected, he’s not emotionally vacant. He cares all over the place—about his parents, his coworkers…a hurt little boy in a restaurant.”
“And you. Not just because he said so. A guy doesn’t rush to the bathroom to hold your hair back when you’re puking unless he’s in deep.”
“Yeah.” She ran her hands through her hair, tugging hard on her scalp. “He cares about me.”
“Some people don’t put a lot of stock in words. They’re cautious about emotions. Life’s taught them to protect themselves. It doesn’t mean they don’t have feelings, even if they fight embracing them. Spending your time with a smart, sexy-as-sin, fundamentally decent man who cares for you sounds pretty ideal.” She popped a candy in her mouth. “Who needs all the trappings?”
Trappings. Interesting term. “Trappings like marriage? Kids?”
Sinclair shrugged. “You could slip those in the ‘never say never’ file for now, right? People change. Wants evolve. You both might feel different in six months or a year.”
And that, she realized, was exactly what she’d hoped to hear. What she wanted to believe. But it felt wrong. Mostly because she knew exactly how she’d feel in six months or a year. She knew her heart. “Wouldn’t that be like accepting what he’s offering under false pretenses? He’s not making any promises about the future.”
“What false pretense? Beau doesn’t own a crystal ball. He can’t say for certain what changes the future will bring, or how he’ll feel later. Neither can you, for that matter. If you were older, the situation would be different, but you’ve got years before Father Time takes certain trappings off your table. I don’t see it as false pretenses to approach this with the mind-set that you’re both taking time to figure out if ‘I care about you, let’s live together’ is enough. I know you’re a sucker for a sweeping romantic gesture, but given your circumstances, his request is logical and responsible.”
“What do you mean my circumstances?” Was her sister implying that because she’d misread a relationship in the past, her judgment sucked?
Sinclair took the chair next to her and leaned in. “Because despite your so-called engagement, you two haven’t actually known each other very long. Yeah, you knew each other as kids, but that doesn’t count. Basically you both got thrust into a situation of instant intima
cy. Then the whole thing ignited, and now you need to figure out how deep the feelings go. He’s asked you to stay and move in with him. Pretty major gesture, if you ask me, out of a man you’ve been…I’ll call it seeing…for barely a month.”
Well, when you put it like that… A complicated mess of uncertainty and confusion lifted from her shoulders. She felt a smile tug at the corner of her mouth. “So what you’re saying is, I should slow down, enjoy the trip, and worry less about the ultimate destination?”
Her sister grinned and popped another candy in her mouth. “What’s your hurry? It’s not like you’re pregnant or something.”
“Right.” She laughed. “It’s not like I’m—” Nauseous, tired, sensitive…
Late.
Holy shit.
“Sinclair, I need a ride to the drugstore.”
Savannah held the plastic wand in one shaking hand, closed her eyes, and let out a long, slow breath. Don’t panic. Give it a moment and then look again. Just open your eyes and…
The twin pink lines stared back at her, bold and unmistakable. The darn thing might as well have been a blinking neon sign. You. Are. Pregnant.
Her phone vibrated on the bathroom counter, and an incoming text from Sinclair appeared on the screen. + or – ???
She reached over and turned off her phone, then rested her forehead against the cool, hard mirror. How? Denial screamed in her mind. She hadn’t missed a pill.
A soft knock at the locked bathroom door had her straightening.
“Everything okay?”
Beau’s voice sent the building wave of panic crashing over her. The test slipped from her numb fingers and clattered onto the granite countertop. She quickly turned off the sink taps, which she’d turned on full blast before reading the test, in some paranoid fit. “Fine!” she called, and winced at the volume of her reply. “I’ll be out in a second.”
Moving in fast-forward, she dropped the wand into the small wastebasket under the sink where she’d already discarded the crumpled box it came in, and tossed a few concealing wads of tissue on top. Then she washed her hands, smoothed her hair, and waited for her pulse to stop hammering. Of their own accord, her hands dropped to the narrow waist of her red off-the-shoulder pencil dress that channeled 1950s glamour bunny in every figure-hugging inch.
A baby. A fragile combination of Beau and her sat nestled in her womb like a seed, deserving of a chance to grow and thrive. Some higher power than progestin minipills had handed them a miracle, and sneaking into the bathroom to take a test, treating the results like a dirty secret to be hidden in the depths of the wastebasket, suddenly struck her as shameful. Questions like how no longer mattered. The answers had no impact on the present reality. Her palms flattened protectively against her belly, and her panic subsided a little as determination took root. Ready or not, this tiny life existed. It needed care, and joy, and love. It needed them. And she wouldn’t let it down.
She stared at her reflection for a minute and accepted another reality. Dropping a life-changer like this on Beau minutes before they were expected at a holiday party wasn’t fair. She needed to pick the moment for this disclosure carefully, when they had time and privacy. A cold, clammy fist squeezed her stomach when she thought about the discussion. The best course of action would be to wait until after Christmas, confirm the pregnancy with her physician, and then have the conversation with Beau.
The fist loosened. She let out a breath and opened the door.
Beau stood in front of a mirrored closet door, knotting his tie, but his gaze roamed over her when she stepped into his line of sight. He gave up on the tie, turned, and faced her. His inscrutable expression put a wobble in her knees. Was he already regretting asking her to stay?