Page 105 of Put a Rink on It

“Am I losing you as a friend?”

His out-of-the blue question throws me for a loop yet sobers me at the same time. “What?”

“Like when we ‘break up,’ does it mean the end of our friendship? I don’t think I can do that, Ships. I know our marriage has an end date, but please say our friendship doesn’t.”

“No. Why would you think that?”

Is he crazy? In what world do I live without him in it? Won’t we go back to the way things were? Texts, phone calls, FaceTime, the occasional weekend visit? Our friendship won’t look exactly the same, but we’ll still be friends.

Right?

“Something you said earlier about an ending. Did you mean it for our friendship?”

“No. You’re too important to me to lose, Nero. You’re always going to be in my life.”

“Easy to say now, but what about when you find your soulmate, and he doesn’t want you to keep being friends with me?”

His use of “soulmate” is ironic with my thoughts today.

“Then he won’t be my soulmate. Because if it’s him or you, the choice is obvious. You, Nero. Always you.” The thought of anything else is too daunting to entertain.

“Even at the expense of a forever love?”

His question hangs in the air.

Would I trade a life without Nero for the one I’ve always dreamed of?

No is my gut answer, followed by why can’t Nero be both?

Which reminds me of the pregnancy test burning a hole in my bag. However, when Juliet suggested drinks, it didn’t cross my mind to say no because I could—the slimmest possibility—be pregnant. It wasn’t until after I sucked down the first drink I remembered I needed to get a test. Tate was my designated driver for the night, and on the way back from Juliet’s house, I made her stop at CVS. She didn’t question my purchase, and I didn’t have to ask her to keep my secret. She understands on a level not many other people would.

“Marina?” Nero’s concerned voice breaks my reverie. “Where’d you go?”

“I have to tell you something.” The question darts out unleashed.

“What is it?”

I didn’t plan on telling him until I had the test in my hand. If it’s negative, there wasn’t even a reason for him to know. But it feels dishonest to keep it from him.

Amassing every ounce of strength I have, I blurt, “I bought a pregnancy test today.”

“Oh.” It’s the only word he says, his only reaction. His expression doesn’t change, nor does his posture. The man gives nothing away. Until he clears his throat. “Did you get the results?”

A single tear slips down my cheek. “No,” I whisper. I’m not sure I need to confirm I’m pregnant with the way I’m acting, emotional and weak. But I have to know for sure, and Nero deserves the answer, too.

“Should you do it now? We can hang up and⁠—”

I panic. “No. Don’t hang up. I can’t do this alone. Stupid as that sounds. You’re part of this, and I need your support, Nero. Please don’t hang up.”

“Okay. I’m here.” His tone seems less supportive than at the beginning of the conversation, but I can’t blame him. I’m throwing this at him, begging him to help me, all when, if it’s positive, I can’t predict how he’ll react.

“I’m gonna go do the test in the bathroom. I’ll leave the phone in the bedroom.”

“Okay.”

I’m not expecting his nonchalant acceptance. I figured he’d make a joke of it since we’ve had several conversations—past and present—about using the bathroom in front of each other. Heck, if his first stop after practice is the bathroom, he’ll FaceTime me if he has something important to say or wants to talk. It’s only not odd because it’s Nero.

However, now isn’t the time to perseverate on it. There are more pressing matters at hand.