“Brando?”
“Who else. Tell me what’s going on. Are you sick?”
“No!” I took a deep breath. “I mean, no, just…” He had been outside working in the yard, what the hell did he mean by coming inside so soon? A ludicrous laugh came barreling out my mouth and then the door flew open.
At first, he stared at me, fully clothed, everything in the right spot—nothing amiss there. Then his intense gaze followed my quick glance. The bag on the counter, the wrapper and instructions next to it, the test besides that, all lined up in a row.
“What’s this?” he asked, though he knew damn well what it was.
He went to grab for the test, so did I, but he was much faster.
“Eww,” I said. “You might want to put that down.”
He didn’t care, not about that. His eyes were glued to the stick, like it was going to come to life and scream,HAHA, joke’s on you, Pal,at any second.
“Scarlett.”
I started to ramble,magic flush,old wives tales,my father being thrilled, I didn’t even know what I was going on about, only that I was somehow piecing the story together. He was listening, but his eyes were glued to the test.
I had no idea what he saw, if he saw anything yet, and whether or not he was going to collapse. Embers had been burning underneath his bronze tan, but in that moment, he was as white as Italian marble. Quite frankly, it was frightening to see a man with so much color blanch like that.
“Your pills—” He had to stop and clear his throat. “You stopped—”
“No!” I said, more than defensive. “Have you even been listening to me?”
“Not sure,” he croaked out. “Does this fucking thing vibrate when it’s done?”
“What?” I took a step closer. The test wasn’t vibrating. His hands were shaking. “Give me that!” I went to snatch it, but he moved it so that I couldn’t.
I could tell he wanted to shut his eyes tight, drop the stick and run, but his pride refused him the right. Or perhaps it was drop-dead fear.Superman meets kryptonite.
“I think—” he swallowed hard, audibly “—you are—we have something here.”
If he wouldn’t have been so pale and sweaty, I would’ve laughed at the calculated way he saidwe have something here. Given the circumstances, though, it seemed like we were both about to have to take a seat on the floor.
Before he could protest, I snatched the test from him, but this time he didn’t make a move to hide it from me. I stared at the test for—oh, who knew how long—before I shoved it at his chest like a plastic sword.
“I’m NOT! Brando! I’m NOT!”
“I need to sit,” he said, swaying, attempting to walk backward to sit on the edge of the tub. I had to help him sit and then force his head between his legs.
Here swayed a man who was prepared to have his heart ripped out for my honor by the enemy, not a tremble in his bone beforehand, not a quiver in his voice, and I had to help him sit in the face of anegativepregnancy test.
After washing my hands, I wet a small towel with cool water and applied it to the back of his neck. “Brando? Did you hear me? I’m not pregnant.”
“Ah huh,” he said.
I leaned down and attempted to meet his eye, but the look that met me had me standing abruptly.
“You can’t think—you can’t think that I did this on purpose!”
His head lifted and his eyes were sharp. “Tell me what I should think then.”
“Did you even hear me?”
“How could I? The ringing was too loud in my head.”
“Listen to me now!” I almost screeched.
