I sat on the edge of the tub and opened my fertility tracking app with shaking hands.
The screen confirmed what I already knew.
My period was nine days late.
The app helpfully suggested taking a pregnancy test, its cheerful icon mocking me with false enthusiasm.
I pressed both hands over my mouth and tried not to panic.
I was so dumb for just going with the flow and not protecting myself, but when you're in the heat of the moment, protection is the last thing you want.
Another cramp rolled through my lower belly, and I clutched my phone tighter.
Maybe it was just stress.
Maybe my cycle was off because of the emotional upheaval of the past month and this crampy sensation was my period finally starting.
But nine days was nine days, and my cycle had always been regular.
I stared at my reflection in the mirror above the sink.
My face was flushed from sex and exertion, my hair tangled, my eyes wide with fear.
I looked exactly how I felt.
Terrified.
I couldn't tell Nate or I'd freak out for sure.
Besides, there was no point in worrying him over what might be nothing more than a late period.
So I took a deep breath, forced myself to look calm, and opened the bathroom door.
Nate was sitting up in bed, the sheet pulled to his waist, scrolling through his phone.
He looked up when I entered and smiled. "Everything okay?"
"Perfect." I climbed back into bed and curled against his side. "Just needed a minute."
He set his phone aside and wrapped his arm around me, pulling me close. "You're sure?"
"Completely sure." The lie tasted toxic, but I forced it out anyway. "Everything's fine."
He kissed the top of my head, and I closed my eyes, trying to match my breathing to his. But my mind was racing, cycling through worst-case scenarios.
If I was pregnant, everything would change.
The scandal would explode beyond anything we'd dealt with so far.
The committee still wouldn't have grounds to force Nate out, but the hospital might terminate my employment.
My carefully rebuilt life would shatter again, and this time, I wouldn't be able to run far enough to escape it.
I pressed closer to Nate and tried to silence the voice in my head screaming that I'd made a terrible mistake.
12
NATHAN
