Silence envelopes our naked bodies; the slow rise and fall of our chests pressed together is the only sign of life. I don’t know what to say. That … what just happened … it’s not what friends do. Not like that.
It’s what lovers do.
I’ve had enough sex to know that wasn’t sex.
Shep slowly lifts his head from the crook of my neck, and he kisses me. It’s undemanding and sensual. His fingers feather up my leg and over my hip while his tongue makes lazy strokes against mine. This is intimate. It’s way on the other side of a line we weren’t supposed to cross. When the kiss ends, our gazes lock. Right there in his eyes. Those eyes that can’t lie. He knows.
“Sophie …”
I shake my head a half dozen times as emotion stings my eyes. Feeling it is bad enough. He can’t say it. Sometimes words mean nothing, but sometimes they change the course of a life. If he says it, those words will shake me like an explosion. I will lose my way, and it’s no longer just my journey. I have a passenger.
Right now, it’s not solely about me.
“I’m sorry you had to beat that dead horse.”
Shep’s eyes narrow. He’s not getting the humor in my comment. “Why can’t you get pregnant?”
“What?” Where did that question come from?
“In Sedona, you said you had a procedure. Like an IUD placed?”
“Shep …” I wriggle my way out from underneath him and sit on the edge of the bed. “No.” I shake my head, a little frustrated that he’s taking this conversation in that direction. I get it. He wants to know that I’m not going to show up on his doorstep with a positive pregnancy test. “It’s not an IUD. It’s … nothing to worry about.” I glance over my shoulder, but my words don’t seem to erase the worry from his face. “It’s a hundred percent. I guarantee you can’t get me pregnant. Okay?”
He stares at the mattress between us, worry clinging to every tiny crease along his brow and at the corners of his eyes. “Are you okay?”
I laugh a little. “I’m fine, Shep. Now, get dressed before my dad and Taryn get home.” Gathering my clothes, I hug them to me, peek out the door, and dash to the bathroom.
When I emerge, Shep’s in a lounge chair out back with a glass of wine in one hand, head back, eyes closed.
“Taryn will be thrilled that you’re drinking the wine,” I say, taking a seat in the hanging egg chair.
“No wine for you, though,” he murmurs.
I shake my head, but he doesn’t open his eyes to see me.
“Can I ask why?” Now, he opens his eyes.
Tell him. Just say it. Lay it out there and let him decide what to do with everything.
I can’t. He’s not Jules. And we’re at my dad’s house. Chloe would hate me if Dad found out before she told him.
“My doctor doesn’t want me drinking for a … while.”
“You’re sick?”
“No. I’m … it’s …” I press my lips together. “I’m not ready to talk about it, but I’m fine. I just … I’m fine. Really.”
“Does your dad know?”
I shake my head.
“Your mom?”
Another headshake.
“Are you going to tell them?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“When I’m ready.”
“Jesus.” He sits up, setting the wine glass on the table before running his hands through his hair, elbow on his knees. “Would you tell me if it were serious?”
I’m not sure how to respond. I’m not dying. Is that what he thinks?
He grunts a laugh. “Of course you wouldn’t tell me.”
“No. That’s … that’s not true. I’m fine. Really. Not dying. Just … not ready to discuss my situation, yet. But soon. I promise.”
“Does Jules know?”
I nod.
“So she can know, but your own family can’t know?”
He’s upset? I think. I’m not really sure.
“It’s complicated.”
“Is it cancer?”
“What?” I narrow my eyes and shake my head. “No, Shep, it’s … I’m fine. It’s not cancer.”
“Fuck, Sophie …” Shep stands and blows out a long breath while resting his hands on his hips. “Just tell me.”
“I will, just not—”
“Dammit, Sophie! I’m so tired of your wishy-washy crap. It’s no longer cute. It’s fucking frustrating. You’re all over the damn place. You’re not drinking, not eating certain foods, you don’t want me to know about your real life, but you won’t tell me why. And I’m done playing the arranged marriage, jail, homeless, whatever game. It’s no longer funny. We just had the best sex of my whole damn life, and you nearly cried when you thought I was going to actually get personal with you. And now you’re admitting something is wrong with you, but it’s fine. It’s not fine! It’s driving me—”
“I’m pregnant,” I say in a calm voice.
Shep’s head inches back, his eyes unblinking. After a few seconds, his throat bobs. “W-what?”
I shrug. “I’m pregnant.”