“We’re fine there for now. But I can’t help but look to the future with you, and I want more, Izzy.”
“We have time,” she assures me and hugs me close. “We have time for all of it.”
Chapter 16
~Izzy~
Oh my God. What is wrong with me?
I climb into the still-warm bed, burrow under the covers, and will the nausea to go away. I can smell something coming up from the pub. Usually, it would make my mouth water, and I’d go in search of whatever brilliance Fiona was whipping up.
But today, it only makes the nausea worse.
I’ve been working both jobs for almost two weeks, and the whole time I’ve felt this way. At first, I blamed it on nerves and exhaustion. My hours are totally messed up, and I don’t have a routine.
But now, I think something’s wrong.
I reach for my phone and Google my symptoms.
“It has to be the flu,” I mutter, reading the small screen. “Except I don’t think I have a fever.”
I press my hand to my forehead. Nope, no fever.
“I don’t have chills. Body aches. Do sore boobs and hips count? I mean, they’re part of my body, so I guess they count. I definitely have the nausea.”
Then, I keep reading down the page, and one word hits me in the solar plexus.
Pregnancy.
I sit up and read those symptoms.
Nausea.
Breast tenderness.
Smell sensitivity.
That’s as far as I get before I toss my phone aside and have to run to the bathroom to dry heave. I have nothing left in me.
I sit back on my haunches, still hugging the bowl just in case, and let my mind whirl.
There’s no way I can be pregnant. We’re always careful. And I just had my period…wait. When did I have a period?
“Oh, shit.”
I stand and rinse my mouth out, pull on some clothes, and sneak out the back door of the pub. I drive my little car to the other side of the island, walk into Target, and head for the pharmacy section.
I toss three pregnancy tests and some lip balm into my basket. And then I swing by the bakery for some chocolate chip cookies because I’m going to need them at some point, no matter what the test results are.
If I can stomach the smell of them.
I pay for the goods and hurry back home. Much to my chagrin, Keegan is in the apartment when I walk in.
“Hey, where did you run off to, love?”
“The pharmacy,” I say. I don’t look him in the eyes, just hurry into the bathroom. “Girl stuff. No worries.”
Thank God, I can just say, “girl stuff.” Men steer clear of those words.
I lock myself in the bathroom and get down to business. I pee on the first stick and set it aside, and then open the cookies.
Yes, it’s gross to eat in the bathroom, but I’m suddenly hungry, and these days, I eat when I can.
I’m halfway into the second cookie when I look down at the stick and see two lines.
“What does that mean?” I wonder as I open the instructions and then swallow the now-cardboard bite in my mouth.
Two lines mean I’m pregnant.
“Fuck,” I say out loud and drop the stick into the sink.
“Izzy? Are you okay in there?”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I call back and stare at myself in the mirror. “Shit, this is not the plan. I don’t want him to freak out. I don’t want him to think I’m trying to trap him with an anchor baby.”
I scrunch up my nose.
“He won’t think that. That’s dumb.”
“Izzy, open the door.”
“No, it’s okay. I’m fine. You can go.”
“You don’t sound fine. Let me in.”
I shake my head and pace the small space. “I just need some time alone.”
“Then you shouldn’t be with me because that’s not what you signed on for here, love. Open up. Let me help.”
God, I love him so much, and this is going to change everything about our relationship. I don’t know if I’m ready for that.
“This sucks,” I whisper.
“Okay, last chance, Isabella. I went to get my tools, and I’m about to dismantle this door.”
I hear the drill start, and he starts to pull out screws from the hinges.
Finally, I walk over, stick in hand, and unlock the door before he yanks it off.
I pull it open and close my eyes.
But Keegan just wraps his strong arms around me and rocks me back and forth.
“Talk to me, love. There’s nothing going on here that we can’t figure out. What’s wrong?”
I don’t speak. I don’t pull away. I just wiggle my arm out and raise my hand above my head.
“Is that what I think it is?”
I nod.
“Izzy, it’s positive.”
“I know,” I mumble against his chest.
He picks me up and sits on the couch with me in his lap. “Look at me.”
With his finger under my chin, he tips my face up to look at him.