“Was what normal?”
“Your period.”
I put my pen down and look at her. Really look at her. Her brow is arched, her arms folded over her chest, as if she’s daring the universe to argue back.
“I bled. What else does it need to do to be normal?”
I don’t want to go there, to remember how it felt to see that small amount of blood and know another month was going to pass with no pregnancy.
Juno shifts her shoulders, her eyes locked on me like I’m puzzle she’s trying to solve. “Implantation bleeding is a thing, Mia. A lot of women mistake it for a light period, but it’s your little parasite embedding in your uterus.”
My mouth is suddenly dry. I have a light flow anyway, but my period had been different. It was lighter, earlier, and shorter than normal. I just figured it was stress or hormones or just my body being an asshole.
I’m not due for another two weeks, which would put me at… seven or eight weeks pregnant—if I was pregnant,which I’m not.
My mind is running laps. I can’t be… right? I don’t want to hope if it’s not possible, but maybe it was this implantation bleeding thing.
Maybe I am pregnant.
No. Two days of feeling crappy doesn’t mean shit.
My boobs are sore though.
And I’m exhausted. I feel like I’m dragging my body through wet cement.
Not to mention I get nauseous every time I look at food. Or coffee. Or stand too close to Theo. His cologne is strong.
“How do you even know this stuff?” I ask, going back to my paperwork. “I’ve never heard of implantation bleeding.”
“I own a uterus, Mia. I make it my business to know what the factory is doing to the workers.”
I snort. “Well, this foreman can tell you I’m not pregnant.”
“Right.” Juno draws the word out dramatically. “Because perfectly healthy people always sway every time they stand up and almost puke at the smell of anything.”
“I’m standing just fine.”
Juno just lifts one eyebrow in challenge. I can’t even argue with her. I’ve been lightheaded all morning.
And nauseous.
And grouchy as hell. I was awful this morning. Irritable. Angry. I could have smothered Jensen, which isn’t like me.
She slides onto the stool next to me, folding her hands on the desk. “Are you worried Jensen won’t be cool about it?”
Not even a little. If she knew how much my husband wants this, she wouldn’t ask. He’s been trying to breed me for months.
But I’m not telling Juno my husband has an obsession with filling me full of his cum. She deserves to stay innocent of this.
“He’ll be fine. Over the moon, in fact, but I’m not.” My voice softens. “I can’t be.”
My phone vibrates. I don’t have to look to know it’s a message from my husband. He’s been checking in every thirty minutes since I arrived. I rattled him this morning, which I feel shit about.
Juno gives me a knowing look. “He’s worried?” She doesn’t need to see my phone to know it’s Jensen messaging. She’s worked with me long enough to know our patterns.
“He’s always worried.”
I lift my gaze to the camera nestled in the corner of the ceiling. He’ll be watching me, and I’m not sure I blame him. I’ve been… different.
