Need You Now (Martha's Way Series Book 2) (4 page)

Chapter Four

“Love is all fun and games until someone
loses an eye or gets pregnant.”

Jim Cole

F
ive
weeks later, fatigued, anxious and terrified
, Lily opened the brand new box—the
tenth
one—
and hoped this would be the one to snap
her out of this weird dream sequence. She sucked in a deep breath, exhaled and
headed to the connected bathroom.

Even though she had been thorough with the others, for
precision, she cautiously read the instruct
ions,
never mind the step-by-step guide didn’t vary much from the previous nine. At
this point, she could recite each word with her eyes closed. The first three
steps were qualifiers, meant to educate the user on the variances between
manufactures. The len
gth of time one needed to pee on
the stick, the symbols used to indicate a positive or negative result, all the
scientific information she needed to decide whether to invest in Gap maternity
dresses or purchasing that fitted halter top she had been eyeing
from Anthropologie.

Step four tensed her stomach, even on the tenth one. Bold,
chilling letters stared at her—
Prepare Yourself. Taking a home
pregnancy test could be a nerve-wracking experience
.

No shit, Sherlock
.

Ready to go, she chugged another glass of
water, squared her shoulders and moved to the next act,
the urine sample. After nine tests, she already knew what came next; she had to
wait for the stated amount of time for the result. In this case, a whole three
minutes, this meant eternity in pregnant
or
not-pregnant land. Anxiety curled in her stomach. Nerves tingling, Lily lowered
her weight down to her knees and leaned against the wall for comfort.

She placed her phone on the floor, set the timer, and
waited. The silver antique clock usually found o
n her
nightstand now stood on the cream-colored tile floor, staring at her. Her gaze
bounced between the two devices.

Tick.
Tock.

The seconds faded away, determining her fate. Arms clutched
to her chest, she had no choice but to abide by the rules of Fathe
r Time.

As she waited, Lily said a silent prayer to St. Jude, her
mother’s favorite saint, the patron saint of the hopeless and the desperate,
the saint for those who felt trapped in lost causes.

She met all the required criteria.

.
While at it, she promis
ed never to make another wiseass comment about how
ridiculous periods were. Never again would she joke about being punished once a
month for not being pregnant. Besides, a woman’s monthly cycle was designed to
rid the body of toxins. Technically, it was go
od. Now
the stick just had to declare her not preggo and all would be well again.

Her phone vibrated and Minka’s name appeared.

Hey,
you’re MIA. Call me.

Lily smiled sadly at the text. MIA was a strong word but
fitting. The last two days, she’d avoided her family, Minka included. She was
family; not all family was connected by blood. Hiding wasn’t a trait she was
fond of, but at times necessary, especially
when life
threw her a curveball so traumatic she couldn’t even call her best friend of
ten years.

They’d met in college and worked together until last year
at an upscale private school in Princeton. Although Minka had moved to Martha’s
Vineyard they still
talked on a daily basis. Minka
was her confidant, her other half, the sister she’d always wanted. When “What’s
his name” had ditched her, Minka had been the first to know. Even with about
five hundred miles between them, they still managed to talk as freq
uently as possible, whether by a quick text or a long
conversation. No, the distance had not weakened their friendship. As close of a
relationship she had with her brothers and parents, Minka was her confidant,
the sister she always wanted.

So why wasn’t s
he confiding now?

Because if she told Minka, that meant what she’d been
feared–the positive she’d been denying on every tossed aside ePT would suddenly
become very, scarily real. She couldn’t be that girl.
The one with the accidental pregnancy whose life w
ent to the shitter.
She was strong.
Capable.
Together.
Shit like this only happened to other
people.

She glanced at the screen.
Still deciding.

And let’s say
hypothetically she did turn out pregnant. Never mind what the other tests have
already proven she
was as pregnant as pregnant came,
but those had been indicators, two little plus signs. Hell, a little tilt of
the stick to the left or the right might have caused a tainted result, which
was why she bought and tried one
last thing. This time the word
preg
nant
would appear on the screen. No signs. Those were not reliable, at least not to
her. In either case, she’d unload her troubles on her friend. But it’d have to
be face to face. Some things were better delivered that way. Also, Minka
wouldn’t judge. That
she was sure of.
 

Now her parents and brothers—
yeah, nausea filled her just at the
thought. She could see the disappointment in their eyes. Her family was tight,
stable, but with all the love and warmth came expectations. She had done a good
job meeting
all of them until now. Graduate high
school.
Checked.
Go to college.
Checked.
Do something you love.
Checked.
Fall in love.
Checked,
unchecked and now in denial mode.
But there wasn’t a box for denial. Get
married then have babies. Yeah, that’s where she f
ailed.

In two days she would be on the quaint island of Martha’s
Vineyard for her best friend’s wedding, scheduled to take place in two weeks. A
smile settled on Lily’s lips, the gang was going to reunite once again. To
think only a year ago she had been i
ntroduced to
Claire, Forrest, Jason, and Adam. She made a mental note to call Minka or the
very least send her a text.

Later.

She still had the dreaded stick to deal with at the moment.
Make that ten dreaded sticks.

She glanced at the stick. A blank window
stared back at her. Lily did a quick time check. Not even
a minute had passed. Time had a funny way of slowing down and moving at its own
pace during urgency. Becoming more anxious with each passing second and in
desperate need of a diversion, Lily picked
up her
phone and sent her friend a text in an effort to distract herself.

How excited are you about marrying that
sexy fiancé of yours?

As she typed the words, Lily realized her hands were
trembling and wrapped them around her sunken stomach. Minka was
quick to respond.

I’m
in heaven. I am so in love.

You
and Jason
are good together.

So
are you and Adam.

Minka the hopeful romantic.
To think a year ago her friend thought
she was in love with her twin sister’s fiancé, now husband. Life was filled
with wonderful surprises, well, at least surprises. The possibility of being
pregnant with Adam’s baby was not something she could categoriz
e as one of those wonderful surprises, more like a
complete, earth-shattering shock.

The decision to have a child, even when consensual, was
momentous. To find yourself in the situation totally unexpected, your heart
ripped open to unconditional love, the
responsibility
of a life in your hands, now that was a cruel joke.

She texted back.

It’s
just sex Minka.
Purely physical
.

Once again, she was reminded her relationship with Adam was
nothing but sex. And the possibility of creating a life under such re
ckless abandonment made her throat tightened.

You
both are so stubborn. Anyway, I can’t wait to see you.

Same here.
Give Jason my love. Talk later.

Her phone vibrated again. This time it was from her brother
Zander.

Hey,
sis, where have you been the
last two days? Call me.

She ignored her brother’s text. The last forty-eight hours,
each one of them had called and texted. Each message had gone unanswered. They
were a guarded bunch and would come knocking soon, but right now she needed to
shut the worl
d out until she could wake up from this
nightmare.

Two days ago she woke up nauseous and headed straight to
the bathroom. Initially she self-diagnosed a stomach bug and even mentioned it
to Adam that night as they spoke. Only it didn’t seem to want to go a
way. It wasn’t until one of her colleagues casually
mentioned that she might be pregnant did the possibility enter her mind. After
work that day she went straight to the local supermarket and picked u
p a variety of pregnancy tests—
ePT, First Response, and
any other brand on display.

She glanced back to the thin plastic stick and realized
while the instruction said to wait a certain amount of minutes, it had changed
before time.

Pregnant.

The word greeted her in bold for the first time.

Blood rushed in her
ears and her
pulse skyrocketed. Panic and reality bubbled in her stomach, making her dizzy.
This time there was no denial; not a positive sign but the actual word
confirming what the other previous tests had tried to tell her. Her eyes slowly
slid away fro
m the evidence before her. There was no
denying her reality any longer.

She’d created a baby with Adam.

How?

The question she had been asking over and over shuffled in
her brain. She was on the pill; that was as baby-proof as one could get. Yes,
there was
that one- to two-percent chance but Lily
alwa
ys
saw that disclaimer as a CYA—
Cover Your
Ass type of thing, a just—
in-case legal move to avoid lawsuits.

In nine months, give or take, she was going to have a baby.
She’d be a mother. A life was forming inside
her this
very second. Her well-managed life was about to become chaotic, topsy-turvy.

The reality struck hard and her hand instinctively came to
rest on her flat belly.

She wanted to move, yell, cry, anything.

Questions swam through her head.

How would sh
e work or raise a
child as a single mother?

She blew out a breath.

Her parents, and her brothers; she’d have to tell them.
She’d failed them.
The only
daughter, the baby sister, pregnant and unwed.
Don’t forget single. Her Facebook
status was
Single
. Maybe
now
she’d change it to
It’s
complicated.

A soft chuckle escaped her throat while visions of her
parents’ concerned eyes flashed before her. Her overly protective brothers
would want to beat up the bastard, of course. And then maybe marry her off. He
r pare
nts had
two golden rules—
Don’t
end up in jail and no babies out of wedlock. Her brothers
had toyed but never broke the jail rule. She was the ballsy one. She broke one
of the rules.