Worth Every Cent (Worth It 2)

I was pregnant?

“Come see me soon for prenatal vitamins, okay? We’ll get your blood levels tested, make sure you’re not deficient in anything. We’ll get you your first ultrasound and get a file started on you that will transfer to any hospital in the outlying towns. But don’t put it off, okay?” he asked.

I nodded mindlessly, only half-listening to what he was saying. The meat I needed to get was no longer on my mind. The groceries in the back of the convertible were no longer on my mind. Not even the oil I needed to get Gray was on my mind. The only thing I could think about was getting to the drug store and taking a pregnancy test.

“I have to go,” I said breathlessly.

I didn’t stop to take in what Dr. Luke was saying as I ran out of the front door of the butcher’s shop.

Clutching my purse as tightly as I could, I raced up the road. The pharmacy was only a block and a half from where I was. I ran as fast as my legs would take me, ignoring the sweat dripping down the sides of my face. I burst into the store, almost knocking over a man coming out, and I ignored his curses as I headed for the family planning aisle. Gasping for air, my eyes scanned the shelving. Rows and rows of pregnancy tests, all touting how they were the best and the most accurate. I grabbed two boxes with multiple tests in them, then reached for a bottle of water once I got to the cash register.

I looked up at the old lady and hoped to the heavens she wouldn’t recognize me or remember my purchase.

Stuffing everything into my purse, I looked at what was around me. There was a restaurant, the gas station, and a liquor store. The gas station. I still had to get Gray’s oil. I pulled out my phone and pulled up his text message, then committed to memory the kind he needed. My mind swirled with the host of possible issues that could arise if I was pregnant. I stumbled towards the gas statio

n, picking up the oil before I cracked open the bottle of water. I chugged it down and paid for the oil, then asked to borrow their restroom so I could get it all over with.

So I could have some answers.

“Come on,” I said as I looked at the tests. “Go faster.”

I jiggled my leg as I sat on the toilet. Four tests, all digital, and all costing me a fortune. I held my hands to my mouth and closed my eyes, willing myself to stay as strong as I could. I’d been crying enough over my life. If I was pregnant, at least it wouldn’t be Andy’s. If Dr. Luke said I wasn’t more than two months along, then there was no way it was Andy’s child. I hadn’t been with Andy in over three months. But I had been with Gray a couple of months ago.

And multiple times since then.

I opened my eyes and took stock of all the tests in front of me. Tears rushed my eyes as I looked down at my thighs, taking in the tests sitting on top of my skin.

Pregnant, 7-8 weeks.

Pregnant, 7-8 weeks.

Pregnant, smiley face.

Pregnant, plus sign.

Oh. Holy. Shit.

I was pregnant with Gray’s child.

Chapter 27

Grayson

Michelle had been very quiet since yesterday. She came back with a bunch of produce, absolutely no meat, and my oil. I did the best I could with dinner, not wanting to upset her if for some reason the butcher shop hadn’t panned out. For all I knew, someone had driven her out of the damn place. But every time I tried to get her to talk with me, she’d look at me with this worried stare before telling me she was fine.

But I knew better.

I knew she wasn’t fine.

I wondered if she was feeling depressed again. If she was battling the question of what her future held for her now. So, I decided a gift would cheer her up. I started into town when I woke up Thursday morning to pick her up a bouquet of beautiful flowers from the florist. I passed by the liquor shop and decided to grab us a bottle of wine, especially since we’d long finished the box Maria sent us. It wouldn’t be as good as the wine I produced, but it would be a nice touch with the flowers. I grabbed a couple of bottles and put them in the trunk of the car, then walked across the street to the florist shop.

And as I stood underneath the awning of the shop, I figured a phone call to Maria after days of radio silence was necessary.

“Well, it’s nice to know you’re not dead.”

“It’s good to hear from you, too. You know this phone works both ways,” I said.

“Not when you leave me here to run an entire vineyard and field a bunch of NFL-crazy wine dealers,” Maria said.