And a ridiculously large Pixy Stix—walker lady grabbed a blue one right by the register.
“I’m not sure what to say right now.” Heather’s shoulders slumped. “She’s totally going to call Jase and tell him. Then she’s going to call his mom. His dad. His sister. His brothers—even the one deployed overseas.”
Marlee tried to pretend that this was all a dream. She closed her eyes and, in her mind, she was happily sipping a vodka tonic at Brek’s Bar, listening to the cover band, and cuddling up against Eli’s side. No pregnancy scare. No condom disaster all over the drugstore floor. Just a relaxing night out with her friends.
Unfortunately, when she opened her eyes, she was still at the drugstore. Lothario was not defiling anything, but she needed to remember to grab his vest next time so they could do it sans condom disaster.
Also, she was still probably pregnant. Still definitely not sure how she’d ever tell Eli if the test came back positive. And still totally unsure what she was supposed to do from there.
“Okay. Where do we do this?” She lifted the basket from Heather. “We cannot go back to Eli’s place. Definitely not my house.”
Scotty had probably de-dildoed the trees, but he would definitely ask too many questions if she showed up to use the bathroom with a basket full of pregnancy tests. Questions he’d relay to her dad, who would then blow a gasket (or ten).
So the question remained, where the heck were they going to go so she could take a dozen pregnancy tests in peace?
“I have a babysitter. If I show up at home, there’s no way the baby will let me leave again,” Velma said. “And depending on how this goes, we’ll probably want to leave again.”
Okay, so Eli’s place was out of the question. Scotty’s wasn’t even a question. Velma’s was a no go. There was no way Marlee was taking pregnancy tests in the bathroom of Brek’s Bar. First of all, because it was a bar and that seemed like not the best place to do it. And second, because Eli was probably there.
Crap.
Eli was probably there. He was expecting her to be there. Which meant he was probably worried.
Marlee grabbed her cell from her bra.
Double crap.
He’d texted her three times. Called twice.
She didn’t particularly want him to know she was living her own personal freak-out of epic proportions. She also didn’t want him to worry.
Thus, the problem with being Marlee in that moment.
What was a girl to do in the middle of a pregnancy scare? Marlee did the first thing that came to mind. She pushed the button on the side of her phone until the screen went black.
Now, Marlee wasn’t an idiot. She absolutely understood that this wasn’t solving anything. But at the same time, right then, it seemed to solve everything. So she went with it.
“Let’s go to my place. Dean’s out with a client tonight.” Claire tossed a couple of condom boxes into the basket.
Marlee raised her eyebrows toward the haul.
“My treat.” Claire grabbed a mascara, tossing it in with the rest.
Heather sauntered toward the cash register, grabbing a giant Hershey’s bar and a can of barbeque Pringles along the way.
Marlee followed with a basket filled with way more pregnancy tests than anyone could possibly pee on in one night, two boxes of condoms, a Voluminous Mascara, and a gigantic blue Pixy Stix. The last one only because it seemed like something Babushka would do. And Marlee was now sworn to be the new Babushka.
Velma, Claire, and Lothario followed close behind. Marlee didn’t turn to see what they were carrying.
They did the cash register thing, loaded up in Velma’s Prius, and darted off to Claire’s.
Marlee peed on a shedload of sticks.
She lined them all up on the counter. Her heart beat against her chest wall, thumping so loud Eli could probably hear it across town. Her mouth went dry. Her knees started to buckle. She lowered herself to the edge of Claire’s kickass soaking tub, and she waited until the results rolled in.
A dozen tests all came back with the same result.
Then she texted her best friends.
