"No. It would be too early for one of the drugstore kind to work, anyway, I think. But I feel off. And I've been sick all morning."
"Hmm. Well, that's hardly conclusive. And it could be a stomach bug. I mean, you're on the pill, right?"
"True." Reece had used a condom the first time they slept together, but they'd stopped once she told him about the pill. But the truth was that before Reece, she'd sometimes miss a day. And she never worried too much because she wasn't having sex. The worst that would happen was that her hormones got out of whack.
Had she skipped any the month before she started sleeping with Reece?
She couldn't remember.
"What are you going to do?" Amanda asked when Jenna had relayed that little tidbit.
"Be a mommy." She thought of Faith, and the thought made her smile. A child. Their child.
Then she thought of the insanity that was Brent's life as a parent, and the smile faded. "It's not convenient timing, but things work out, right?"
"I still say you're jumping the gun."
"Maybe. And you're right. I mean, it's probably the flu," Jenna said, certainty rising as she mentally reviewed her calendar. "We've only been sleeping together a few weeks. I wouldn't have morning sickness yet."
"My mom said she was sick with me from about a week after conception. So who knows?"
"Great. Thanks."
"When's your period due?" Amanda asked.
Jenna did some quick math. "Right about now," she admitted as the evidence in the Baby column grew and grew.
"Right. Well." Amanda cleared her throat. "Oh, we're being ridiculous. Go to one of those walk-in clinics and find out for certain one way or the other."
"I will. I'll do that right now." She drew in a breath, dispelling a wave of joy mixed with panic. "This isn't a big deal. My immune system is worn down from too much work and lack of sleep. That's all."
"Of course it is," Amanda said. "You don't have anything to worry about at all."
Chapter Eighteen
It was almost three in the morning when Reece got home, and Jenna had fallen asleep on the sofa. She blinked groggily when she heard his key in the door, then sat up slowly, her body feeling foreign now. A little bit special. A little bit traitorous. And definitely different.
"Hey, beautiful," he whispered as he came inside. "I didn't expect you to be up. How are you feeling? Did you go to a clinic?"
She nodded.
"Good. Did he give you anything?"
"No." She yawned and sat up, trying to get her mind working again.
"No?" He moved to sit by her on the sofa, then felt her forehead like he had that morning. "No temperature. Did he at least tell you why you feel so crappy? Overwork, like you thought?"
"You're worried about me," she said.
"Of course I am."
She wrapped her arms around his neck and held on tight. "I love you," she whispered as cold dread swept through her. A dread she hated, because what she needed to tell him was good. Or it should be. But Jenna couldn't help but fear that the moment she spoke would go down in history as the beginning of the end.
"I love you, too." His voice was wary, and he gently pushed her back, then studied her face. "If you're not sick, do you want to tell me what exactly is the matter? Is it the contest? If there's a snag, don't worry. We'll get it worked out."
She shook her head. "No, everything's going great." That was true, and she was grateful. At the moment, she was only equipped to handle one crisis at a time.
"Then what--"