It Was Supposed To Be With You
Charlie | The Past
AweekaftermeetingKeaton at the bar, I find myself frozen in front of my calendar, dread crawling up my spine. My fingers dart frantically through past months, desperate to spot the last mark I made.
Air saws in and out of my lungs as my breathing turns quick and shallow, my fingers fluttering against the pages as I turn them.
“No, no, no,” I mumble, the sheets blurring as water fills them.
I scan each month after Keaton cheated on me, searching for the red circle that marks my period. There's nothing, not even after the condom broke with Alek last month.
This can’t be happening.
My luck can’t be that bad, surely.
I try to shake off the wild theories battling for control in my mind, rolling my shoulders in a futile attempt to ease the tension that won't let go.
I draw in a shaky breath and force myself upright,
Crying and panicking won’t get me anywhere.
A missed period will not break me. If the love of my life didn’t, then getting pregnant by someone other than him won’t either.
With a sharp inhale, I bury my emotions deep, making room for the practical part of me to take charge.
I head into the living room and grab my phone from the charger. The first thing I do is check the calendar just to be sure I didn’t put it there instead, but I only find a blank space on each date.
My shoulders clench tighter, as if invisible burdens keep piling on.
I pull up Amelia’s contact and hit the phone icon to put the call through.
“Yo, bootylicious baby! What’s the spice?”
Some of the weight on my shoulders drops off at her ridiculousness. “God, I fucking love you.”
My words come out in a sob, and I can feel Amelia’s alertness come across the line. It’s corroding my insides—this deathly toxin that’s running through my veins at the thought of being pregnant by Alek.
“Who…the…fuck…am I slicing and dicing today, baby?” she growls.
“I missed my period,” I whisper.
“Oh, fuck someone in the ass,” Amelia whispers back.
“Would have been safer,” I say with a watery laugh.
“All right. Pregnancy tests. We’ll both go get them.”
Maybe she hoped her slip would go unnoticed, given everything I’m dealing with.
“Amelia Shae,” I gasp. “What the fuck did you just say?”
“I said we’ll go get some tests,” she repeats firmly. “I’ll be there in ten. Have your ass ready.”
How does anyone prepare to buy a pregnancy test? T-shirt and leggings? Blouse and jeans? What do people wear when they’re about to find out if they’re pregnant by the wrong person?
I look down at my off-the-shoulder beige sweater, black leggings, chipped black toenail polish, and give my messy bun a quick pat.
Fuck it.
