I sit on the edge of the bathroom counter, staring at the little white stick in my shaking hands. The pink line shows up almost instantly, like it can’t wait to ruin my morning.
Positive.
“Oh, you have got to be kidding me.” My voice cracks on the last word.
I press a hand to my stomach like that might somehow change the result. My brain spins. My stomach swirls. The world tips sideways.
This can’t be happening. Not now.
I’ve always wanted to be a mom. Deep down, I’m not sure I’m cut out for it, but I’ve always desperately wanted a family. I want to give someone everything I never had and love them as fiercely as I know I can.
But this is not how I imagined it happening.
I sink down onto the cool tile floor, pulling my knees up and bowing my head to breathe.
Pregnant. I’m pregnant with one of their babies.
A shaky laugh rattles out of me, half panic and half disbelief. If I wrote my life as a screenplay, no one would buy this plot twist.
Now my head is a storm of questions I can’t answer. What will they think? Will they be mad? Will they ask me to leave? Will this wreck the strange, perfect rhythm we’ve fallen into?
They told me about their dynamic, how they work together, how they share everything. But sharing a child?
That’s a whole different level of commitment.
I press the back of my hand to my mouth to keep myself from groaning, or worse, screaming. What the hell am I going to do?
Somewhere downstairs, dishes clatter. Dillon’s voice rises in mock annoyance. Boone replies with a low rumble. Chance laughs.
My panic doubles as I listen to them move through their morning the way they always do, with no idea what’s happening up here. I want this tiny, impossible life growing inside me to be safe. I want it to grow up with these sounds, with their warmth, with this home, but I have no clue how to tell them.
For a long time, I just sit there on the tiles, wondering how I could be so reckless. I’ve never slept with one guy without a condom, let alone three. In the heat of the moment, I wasn’t thinking.
That’s the God’s honest truth.
Fuck.
“Roxie! Breakfast is ready.”
Dillon’s voice filters up the stairs. I sigh and push myself up on knees I barely feel.
“I’ll be there in a minute!” I call, pulling on the bathrobe that appeared at my bedroom door a couple days ago and hugging the soft, luxurious fabric around me.
Halfway down the stairs, my knees start working again, but my mind keeps spinning around the fact that there’s an actual life growing inside me right now.
Bright morning light pours through the kitchen windows when I walk in, catching on polished counters and scattered papers Boone left out last night. Dillon leans against the counter with that stupid grin that somehow makes everything lighter.
Boone’s usual scowl softens when he sees me. Chance stands near the stove with a mug in his hand, looking like he’s been waiting.
“Good morning,” Dillon says, stepping forward to kiss my temple. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you look like hell, babe.”
Boone slides an arm around me. “Ignore him. You’re gorgeous. Even if you didn’t sleep.”
His lips linger at my temple before he passes me to Chance, who kisses my forehead. “Are you okay?”
I nod, stomach flipping.
They fuss over my coffee, pour cream and sugar exactly how I like it, serve breakfast at the perfect temperature. Every day, they remind me I’m not alone.
