“Aw, Dad. Are you trying to make me cry even more?”
He rubs my back. “So you were trying to get pregnant while you were away?”
I nod. “But I took a test yesterday, and I’m not.”
“Well, it’s not the end of the world. Maybe you just need more practice.” He smiles.
“No, I think we’re done,” I tell him. “I said to Marc that I didn’t want a relationship, and that I wouldn’t let myself fall for him. He doesn’t think I’m interested.”
“So tell him you are.”
“Dad, it’s not that easy.”
“It really is. What do you have to lose?”
I glower at him. “My pride. My dignity.”
“I lost those a long time ago. They’re not really worth anything, believe me, when love is in the offing.”
Love? Yes, I love Marc. I know I do. Oh, I’m such an idiot.
I shift on the sofa, lowering a hand over my tummy. “I wish I didn’t ache so much.”
“Period pain?”
“No. I’m waiting for it to start. I think I caught a cold in Hawke’s Bay.”
Dad raises an eyebrow at me. I shake my head. “I told you, I took a test yesterday. It was negative.”
“How late are you?” he asks.
“Two days. But I feel achy—I know it’s going to start any minute.”
“Sore boobs?”
“Um, well, yeah.”
“Overly emotional? Feeling queasy?”
I just stare at him. Come to think of it…
“So you took a test when you were a day late?” he says.
“Yes. Although sometimes my cycle is twenty-nine days. But the test says it’s accurate most of the time…”
He sighs. “Sweetheart, if you ovulated one day later than normal, the test might not have picked it up yet.”
My heart is beginning to race. “No, that’s not possible…”
“Trust me, I’m a doctor. Do you have another test here?”
“Yes, but—”
He lifts his arm. “Go and take it.”
I stare at him. “Seriously?”
“Humor me.”
I get up in a huff. “Okay, but when I’m right, you’re going to owe me another test. They’re not cheap.”
He pretends to check his pockets. “I think I have a billion dollars in here somewhere…”
Pulling a face, I go off to the bathroom. I know he’s wrong; I know I did the test right before. But my heart still races as I take off the package and pee on the stick. I wash my hands, then look up at my reflection. Dear God, I look like an extra from The Rocky Horror Show. I scrub under my eyes, trying to shift the black, but it’s waterproof mascara and I need to cleanse it properly. I sigh and toss the tissue in the bin, knocking the test off the sink in the process. Mumbling under my breath, I bend and pick it up.
And stare at it.
The large square has a line in it.
I’m pregnant.
Dad taps on the door. “Poppy?”
I open it and look up at him, eyes streaming.
“Told you,” he says, leaning against the doorjamb with his hands in his pockets.
“Oh my God.” I cover my mouth with my hand. “I’m pregnant.”
“I’m going to be a grandad again,” he says. “Oh man, I’m getting old.”
I make a sound like a squeak, and he laughs and puts his arms around me. “My own baby is having a baby,” he whispers. “There’s something extra special about that.”
The words mean a lot to me. I know he loves Summer, and he’s worked extra hard all his life to try to develop a cure for her CF, and to make her feel as if she’s a part of his family as much as his own children. Because of this, there have been times I’ve been jealous of her. She has two fathers to love her, for a start. She’s older than me, more confident, and she doesn’t have the social difficulties I have. She fell for Zach at a young age and the two of them have been deliriously happy. Dad calls her boys his grandkids, and I’ve never begrudged her that. But for him to acknowledge, just between the two of us, that this is special touches me to the core.
“I’m such a mess,” I whisper.
“I know. Me too. And your brother. It’s amazing how we find people to put up with us.”