“I’m ready,” I tell her, deciding to stay as I am.
***
I wipe my sweaty palms down my leggings, as if I can scrub away the nerves clinging to my skin.
“So many choices,” I mutter, staring at all the different brands of pregnancy tests.
“They all work the same, right?” Amelia asks, grabbing one from the shelf and turning it to read the back.
I watch as she picks up one after the other, mumbling incoherently before tossing them in the basket hooked to her arm.
After a few minutes of observing her, I know there’s a hell of a lot going on under that stoic exterior of hers. I refuse to push her, not wanting the chance she’ll shut down. Amelia will open up to me about this when she’s comfortable enough.
I snatch a test at random, mimicking her, and stare at the back like it might hold the answer to my entire life.
As if a box of plastic and paper could possibly tell me what to do next.
A harsh, wounded grunt echoes from the end of the aisle, snapping my attention away from the box in my hands.
Keaton stands there, hands buried in his pockets, his glossy eyes fixed on the box I’m unconsciously crushing in my grip.
“Charlie,” he croaks, on the verge of allowing his tears to spill over.
His horrified, shattered expression ignites a violent collision of grief and rage inside me. The emotions burn so fiercely that the cage I built to contain them finally bursts, unleashing a flood I can’t hold back.
They roar for release, drowning out my desperate wish for silence.
They swirl between us, lashing at our skin in a bruising storm.
Every step toward him is steeped in bitter agony, and only when I stand before him do I finally let myself break.
He doesn’t get to hide from this. He doesn’t get to run from the destruction his choices left behind.
“You don’t get to be hurt,” my voice splintering from the agony pouring through me. “You don’t get to look like I’m breaking your heart, Keaton. You don’t get to do this to me. I’m not the villain in our story.” I shove the test into his chest. “I should be doing this with you. We should be here together picking this up. But instead, I’m doing it with my best friend becausemy person,” I pause, trying to choke back the cry that’s fighting for escape, “decided I wasn’t enough for him and fucked someone else. So, no. You don’t get to look at me like that.”
Stepping away, my body trembles as I fight the pain that is trying to eviscerate me. I wrap my arms tightly around myself, as if that alone can hold me together.
“It was supposed to be you,” I whisper. “You were the only person I wanted to have kids with. You were the one that I was supposed to live out my days with.”
I look up at him and let the tears fall freely. Each drop carries away a bit of the poison inside me, and with every tear, my fractured soul tries to mend itself.
“Every story has to come to an end, Keaton. You just wrote our ending too soon, and I don't know how to forgive you for that.”
There's nothing left for me to say, and I don't have it in me to hear any response from him. So, I turn away, leaving him with the crushed pregnancy test in his hand.
Amelia clutches the basket of tests in one hand and my hand in the other, guiding me away from the person my soul still aches for.
When we're back in the car and on the way back to my place, I call Alek.
“Lollie-girl. Is everything okay?” he answers.
Of course. I don't ever call him while he's at work. “Alek,” I start. “Do you think you could meet me at my place?”
“What's going on, Charlie?” His voice is more alert, and I can hear him moving around his office.
“I have to take a pregnancy test, and I need you to be here with me while I do.”
“Shit. Okay. I'm on my way. Leaving work now.”
