“Ten days.”
He sucks in a small breath, and I feel a sudden overwhelming need to ease his fears.
“I don’t know forsurethat I’m pregnant, because I’m always late. Just notthislate. But I have a pregnancy test in my backpack. I thought I could take it here, and then we’ll know for sure.”
His lips are parted, and he wets them. “Are those tests reliable?”
“I think so.”
“Then maybe we should do it now,” he says, “before supper.”
I’m relieved that he’s not freaking out too much. At least not yet. But that’s why I love him. He’s never been a hothead.
I move to my backpack, unzip it, and withdraw the plastic bag with the test inside. “I’m nervous.”
“Me too,” Jacob says. “But everything’s going to be okay.” He gathers me into his arms and kisses the side of my head. “Whatever happens, we’ll figure it out together. I’ll marry you tomorrow if that’s what you want.”
I draw back, blinking in astonishment.
He shrugs and gives me a small smile. “I’ve always imagined us getting married anyway. We’d just have to move the date up—that’s all.”
I love him so much it hurts. This man is everything I’ve ever wanted.
“You’re amazing,” I say. “I love you.”
“I love you too.” He takes my hand, raises it to his lips, and kisses it. “If I had a ring right now, I’d get down on one knee.”
I start to cry and laugh at the same time. “I might as well tell you ... that’s what I thought your surprise was.”
“Really?” He glances at Scooter, who has fallen asleep on the cushion. “And it was just a dog.” He kisses my hand again. “Next time it’ll be a ring. I promise.”
He walks me to the bathroom and ushers me inside, and I glance at him with unexpected anticipation before I close the door behind me.
Five minutes later, Jacob and I sit next to each other on the sofa, elbows on knees, watching the clock on the wall. Each minute ticks by like an hour, but we’re almost there.
“Thirty more seconds,” Jacob says.
The little plastic stick rests on the TV table across the room, and I wonder if it’s already showing the result. I glance up at the clock again, and the second hand finally hits twelve.
“It’s time.” I breathe deeply.
Jacob wraps his arm around my shoulders and kisses my temple before he gets up to check the result. Heart racing, I sit and watch him pick up the stick and stare at it for a moment, his eyebrows drawn together, his brow furrowed.
“Two lines are positive, right?” he asks.
Oh, God. There it is. I’m going to have his baby. “Yes.”
Jacob holds up the stick. “It’s negative.”
I stare at him with wide eyes, and the whole world goes quiet. Then my insides start buzzing.
“Are you sure?” I shoot off the sofa to check for myself. Jacob hands the stick to me, and I stare at the tiny window. There’s only one pink line. “This can’t be,” I say. “Maybe I did it wrong.”
“How many ways are there to pee on a stick?” Jacob asks.
I continue to stare at it in disbelief. “But I’m ten days late.”
“Have you ever been that late before?”
