The words sent a jolt through me, a sudden weight pressing on my chest. My throat went dry. I yanked my arm free, trying to ignore the way my pulse quickened. “Josh,” I muttered, warning in my tone.
“What?” He shrugged, utterly unbothered. “If I’m gonna do this for a living, I might as well get used to talking about women’s bodies, periods, and pee. And, of course, my favorite word—” He paused for dramatic effect, waggling his eyebrows. “Pussy.”
I groaned, shoving his shoulder. “You’re impossible.”
He grinned, unshaken. “You need to find out, Melanie. And don’t worry, I’ll be right here when you do. No matter what that test says, you got this.”
I exhaled sharply, my arms folding across my chest. “Right.” The word came out heavier than I meant it to, weighed down by a dozen emotions I couldn’t name. “It’s just… weird. I’m nervous because I could be, but I’m also scared because I couldn’t be. It’s like—I never knew I wanted this until there was a chance I could have it.”
Josh tilted his head, studying me. “What? A kid?”
I hesitated, my pulse hammering in my ears. “No… Being a mom. A wife. Having a family. Building a life with someone I?—”
I stopped. The words lodged in my throat like a stone.
Did I? Did I love Nick Consele?
The thought sent a shiver through me. These past few months have been a whirlwind—two people who once despised each other, shifting into something else. Something undeniable. We went from enemies to friends to something much more dangerous. The way his body fit against mine, the way his hands claimed me like I belonged to him… Like I had always belonged to him. He felt like a missing puzzle piece I never knew was gone until now.
Josh leaned against the wall, arms crossed. “There’s only one way to find out if you’ll have all those things.”
I swallowed hard, nodding slowly. My fingers clenched into fists before I forced them to relax. A deep breath in. A slow exhale out.
“Okay,” I whispered, steeling myself. “Let me go pee on a stick.”
Fifteen minutes. That’s how long I’ve been pacing outside, my sneakers kicking up dust on the ranch’s dirt path. My breath is uneven, my chest tight, but it’s not my blood sugar—I took my insulin, and I still feel like I can’t breathe. I thought stepping outside would help, that the crisp morning air and the sight of the horses grazing in the distance would ground me. It hasn’t.
“Here.” Josh’s voice pulls me from my spiral. He hands me a glass of water, his other hand gripping both pregnancy tests. His expression is unreadable, steady, like he’s trying not to spook me. “It’s always best to take at least two,” he had told me earlier, and I’m glad I listened. The box had come with two, just in case.
I take the water and down it in two large gulps, but it does nothing to loosen the knot in my stomach.
“Are you ready?”
I had told him we would look together. Then, five minutes in, I changed my mind and told him he had to look first. Then, I decided I couldn’t look at all.
I set the glass down on the ground, dragging a shaky hand through my thick waves. “Yes. No. Yes—ugh.” I let out a frustrated breath before stopping abruptly. My pulse pounds in my ears.
“Okay. I’m ready.”
Josh studies me for a moment, then carefully flips both testsover and places them in my hands, face down. I swear my heart is beating so fast it might give out.
I turn the first one over.
My stomach drops.
I turn the second one over.
My knees go weak.
Not pregnant.
The words blur as I stare down at them, my mind struggling to process what they mean. I should feel relieved. This is a good thing. A smart thing. Nick will be relieved too—we can part ways without any ties, just like we planned. No complications. No messy emotions. No future we never meant to have.
This is what I wanted.
So why does it feel like something inside me just cracked open?
I try to remind myself—I’m not ready to be a mother. A child deserves more than two people who accidentally stumbled into this situation. We should bring a baby into this world because of love, not convenience.
