“Why the hell did you lock the door?” Her forehead bursts into a series of worry lines as she hits the zenith of panic onceagain.
“I don’t know. It’s what I do when I take a piss.” I hand her the test. “Here you go. Maybe you should wait a minute, you know, make it lookreal.”
She bites down on her bottom lip as she looks at the results. “I guess you’re not going to be adad.”
My stomach clenches. I know she’s trying to make light of the situation, but the jury is still out on that one. I take the stickback.
“What are you doing?” Her brows rise into herforehead.
“I’m not giving it toyou.”
“What?” She swats me over the arms three timesfast.
“Whoa, watch it. That’s my shooting arm. I need to be in top physical condition for my game.” I blink a quick smile, and any trace of one quickly drips off herface.
“Name your price and it’syours.”
“Good. I want you to take the other test when you’re through.” I swallow hard. “And I want to be here for you.” My entire body turns into one giant heartbeat at the prospect of what the end result mightbe.
Her lips quiver as she struggles to smile. She gives a curt nod before snatching the stick back and heading out thedoor.
I lean against the wall and listen in as she reveals thestunning results—her words, not mine. And soon she’s laughing and bubbling with words, and she sounds exactly like the old Sunday I know andlove.
Love. I shake my head at the thought. If I cared at all for her, I would never have let things get that far. And yet here we are. Me pissing on a pregnancy test—with Sunday next up atbat.
The door swings open again, and her shoulders sink as she presses out a smile. “We did it!” She pulls me in and touches her forehead to my chest. “They boughtit.”
“They did? Good.” I swallow hard, knowing full well that unless that second test comes out with a giant line things won’t be good for long. I reach over on the sink and hand her the unused test. Her lids hang heavy as she eyes the pencil long menace. “Yourturn.”
“I guess it is.” She looks up, her gaze steadying over mine. “You really want to know,huh?”
“Don’t you? I mean, I know it’s none of my business, but I thought maybe if you weren’t going to share the results with Trixie, you could share them with me. I can be your safe place.” Just like I kept hersafethat night. “And if it’s negative, I’ll buy you a burger.” A part of me wants to tell her the offer still stands either way, but I’m terrified to admitdefeat.
“I guess you should go then.” Tears steam down her face as she stares at the stick as if it were a loaded gun, and in a lot of ways itis.
I head out and take a seat on her bed, tossing up prayers I didn’t think I’d ever need. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to flunk a test so bad in my life—or anyone else to flunk for thatmatter.
Sunday scuttles out of the bathroom and takes a seat next to me, shaking the stick as if it were athermostat.
“How long did you have towait?”
“I don’t know, ten, thirty seconds?” I reach over and steady her hand from shaking, settling the test between us. The small window floods with color, washing itself a brilliant shade of purple before fading back to gray and then slowly, ever so much slower than anything I experienced, a thin blue line grows more vivid by thesecond.
“There you go.” My heart lets out a few violent wallops. “Negative.”
“It’s negative?” She draws the stick in closer to her, and we both bounce to our feet. “It’s negative!” she screams as she tackles me with a hug, and I squeeze her right back as we spin in a celebratory circle. “It’sover!” Her body bucks over mine as she laughs and cries all atonce.
“It’s all over,” I pant as I land her back on the floor, fighting the urge to sneak in a victorious kiss over herlips.
Sunday brings the stick between us once again, and the celebratory smiles dissipate on cue. It looks as if that negative sign invited another line to theparty.
The two of us don’t say a word. Instead, we stare at that stick as if it were an anvil that just dropped on our heads as one big fat positive sign stares back atus.
It’s not telling us anything we didn’t already fear, deep downinside.
Sunday is pregnant, and I’m thefather.
Harboring a Fugitive
