A Kiss for a Kiss (All In 4)

“What are the odds, though?” I wish I had a paper bag to breathe into.

“I didn’t know you had a boyfriend,” Stevie says.

I’m not sure if I imagine her suspicion or if I’m being paranoid. “I don’t.” I give my head a shake. “I mean, it’s casual. It’s not a serious relationship. What am I going to do if…” I can’t bring myself to finish the sentence. Then it’s far too real.

“It could be that you’re tired, or that your body is following a stronger cycle. Hold on.” Lainey grabs her purse from the floor and roots around in it.

At first I think she’s looking for her phone, as if she’s going to do some research on the subject, but I’m surprised when she pulls out a pregnancy test.

“I’ve been buying these in bulk for years. I carry them with me everywhere.” She rolls her eyes at herself and hands it to me.

“Do you think I should take this now?” I hold it like it’s a dismembered limb, not a tiny device to pee on.

“They’re most accurate when they’re taken in the morning, but false positives aren’t really possible, so if you are pregnant, you’ll know right away. I can stand outside the bathroom door if you want,” she offers.

“It’s okay. I’ll be back in a couple of minutes.” I push up out of the chair on unsteady legs.

Violet jumps up and takes my arm. She’s a head shorter than me, and a tiny thing, apart from her chest. “We’re all here for you, Hanna,” she says, her voice softening. “Whatever happens, we’ve got your back.”

I appreciate that I have a girl gang to rely on right now. I wish Pax was here. She’s been my go-to forever.

I slip inside the bathroom and lock the door. It’s a nice bathroom, much nicer than the one I was in thirty years ago where I found out for the first time that my entire life was about to change.

I take a deep breath, reminding myself that I’m not a teenage girl. And that I haven’t had a regular period in two years.

There’s no way I can be pregnant.

In less than five minutes I’ll be laughing about my paranoia. And chugging a glass of champagne. Or a bottle.

I unwrap the test and read the instructions. One blue line means not pregnant, two blue lines that cross mean I am pregnant.

Got it.

I take a deep breath and try to force the pee out. Of course, now I’m having pee stage fright. I turn on the tap, hoping it’s going to help me out. It does the trick.

I manage to get my hand as well as the stick, which is gross, but not unexpected considering the day I’m having.

I grab a handful of toilet paper and set the test on the vanity. Then wipe myself and wash my hands, humming “Happy Birthday” twice, all the way through.

I take a deep breath, not wanting to look at the test until the two minutes is up.

I take a quick peek.

Then another one.

Looks like that mimosa is off the table.

CHAPTER NINE

Complicated, Times Two

Jake

I’M STANDING BY the bar, away from the axe throwing enclosures, where all the young kids are. And by young kids, I mean King and Queenie’s friends who have come to celebrate her birthday. For a guy who drives a Volvo and is usually fiscally responsible, he sure does like to go all out for my daughter. I was relieved to find out they don’t allow alcohol in the axe throwing enclosures and they close that part of the restaurant off after ten. The lighting is low and there’s a cozy, homey feel. I can see why King chose this place. The name is even cool—The Knight Cap.

I don’t know what’s going on, but pinning Hanna down is harder than trying to catch a fly with a pair of tweezers tonight. Lainey and Violet are practically glued to her, like they’re her personal bodyguards. I knew things were going to be a little awkward between us, but it feels a lot like she’s purposely avoiding me. Which isn’t what I want. Not when our kids are married and we’ve got a lot of years of shared family functions in our future.

I resorted to texting her about half an hour ago, but I don’t know if she’s carrying her phone at all since all I’ve seen in her hands is a glass of what could be water, or gin and tonic since she’s a fan of those.

“You all right? You’ve been checking your phone all night.” Alex Waters, my head coach and one of my good friends, leans against the bar, sipping a glass of scotch.

“I’m fine, just, uh . . . waiting on a message.”

“Work-related or personal?”

“Personal. If it was work related, you’d already know about it.”