“I’ll buy whatever the hell I . . .”
My voice evaporates as her words sink in, and I gulp down the hope that immediately springs up in my chest. I’ve been careful not to make Bristol feel any pressure. I meant every word I said—if we never had a kid, I’d be disappointed, heartbroken, but any man who’s not satisfied with Bristol alone doesn’t deserve her.
“Pregnancy tests?” I search her eyes, finding teasing and hope and trace amounts of fear.
“I’m late.”
“How late?”
“Three weeks.”
“Three . . .” I run my free hand over the back of my neck. She thought it was tight before; my neck’s a bowstring now. “Why’d you wait this long?”
“I dunno.” Bristol lifts and drops one shoulder. “I think I was scared to get excited. It could be stress making me late.”
Or you could be pregnant.
“But now I have to know.” She laughs nervously. “I’m going to the drugstore because I can’t sleep tonight until I know for sure. We can even go together if that makes you feel better.”
“I don’t think we’ll have to go at all actually.” I shift her off my lap and head out of the office, calling over my shoulder, “Gimme a sec.”
Maybe thirty seconds later, Bristol looks from my face to the items I laid out on the desk with wide eyes.
“You just happen to have a pregnancy test?” Bristol lifts one of them and an eyebrow. “Or six? When did you get these?”
“Um . . . March?” I pretend to have to think about it. “Yeah, March.”
“March, as in, our anniversary when I told you I was ready to have kids, March?” A knowing s
mile spreads across her face.
“I didn’t buy six pregnancy tests that day. That would be weird.”
“Right.”
“I bought one each month.”
“Which is even weirder.” She laughs. “But okay.”
“I know.” I can’t believe I’m embarrassed about this. “It was some kind of ritual or something. That first day of your period when you realized you weren’t pregnant, you would always be kind of . . .”
“Psychotic?”
“Your words, not mine.” Though . . . nailed it. “Maybe it was a hope thing, but I would go out and buy one of these. Don’t ask me why.”
I nod to them, a smile pressing through.
“But now we need them. I think ‘thank you, Grip’ is the phrase you’re looking for, and you’re welcome.”
“Well, no time like the present.” Bristol scoops up all six of the tests and heads for the bathroom.
I meet her there with a glass of water.
“I’m not thirsty, but thanks,” she says, pushing the door as if to close it.
I stick my foot in to stop her.
“That’s a lot of tests, and a lot of pee.” I slide fully into the bathroom, hand her the water, and hop onto the bathroom counter. “Drink up.”