The Story Of Us Part 25

"I'll probably just go to bed early."

"All right, but if you need me, call, okay?"

"I'll call and you won't answer."

"Then leave me a message."

"I'll be fine. I love you."

"I love you too."

After we hang up, I go back to my breakfast. I take a bite of eggs, gag, and throw the rest away.

I fall back into bed and sleep for the rest of the afternoon.

I'm groggy when my phone rings. I fumble for it, not wanting to open my eyes. Somehow I manage to swipe the screen and answer.

"h.e.l.lo?"

"Ali, are you okay?" Finley asks.

"Fine." Even I don't believe me.

"What's up, girl? You sound awful."

"Thanks."

"Just keeping it real. But seriously, are you sick?"

I fall back onto my pillow. "Flu. The virus hates me."

"Eh. The flu hates everyone. You're not special."

"That makes me feel better," I deadpan.

"So how long have you felt s.h.i.tty?" Finn asks like she's going to diagnose me.

"Ten days, I think. Today's the first day I've skipped cla.s.s though."

"It's getting worse? And let me guess: you haven't seen a doctor."

"Not necessary."

"How does Maverick feel about that?" She sounds smug. I hate when she sounds smug.

"I just need more sleep," I insist.

"Are you feeling tired often?" she asks. There's clicking in the background, and I realize what she's doing.

"Are you on WebMD?"

"Maybe. Now, are you feeling tired often?"

"Constantly."

"When was your last period?"

"I don't remember. I'm on the pill."

"Have you missed any recently?"

I roll my eyes. "I'm not pregnant."

"b.o.o.bs hurt?"

I squeeze one and let go immediately. "They're sore, yeah."

"Where's Maverick?"

"That can't be on WebMD."

"No, but he can go get you a pregnancy test, right?"

"I'm not pregnant, Finn."

"Only one way to find out. Call me once you take it."

She hangs up before I can respond. She really can't expect me to take a pregnancy test, can she?

A text dings on my phone.

Go. You have 30 minutes.

Oh G.o.d, she's serious. If I don't do this on my own, she'll drive over here and do it for me. Normally, I'd wait this out and call her bluff, but I feel like roadkill and the last thing I want is Finley at my house.

I groan and get out of bed. It takes me twenty-five minutes to get dressed and drive to Wal-Mart. In the aisle, I stare at the selection. This is crazy. I'm wasting my time and money, and I don't have a clue what the difference in these test brands are.

I almost turn around and leave the store when my phone dings again.

Got it yet? Finn texts.

At the store, I text back.

The thought crosses my mind to just go home empty-handed and tell her I took it.

Ding.

Take a picture of the receipt.

Great. She has me cornered.

Ding.

Take another once you've peed on it.

I grab the middle-of-the-road priced one and pay for it. Maverick is going to laugh at me when it comes up negative. I'll blame Finn, of course. It's her idea after all.

I send my clearly drunk bestie a picture of the product and the receipt, and she texts me a dozen happy faces. I'm not sure if she's excited about the text or the prospect of me expecting.

At home, I sit on the toilet and read the instructions. I still think this is dumb and unnecessary, but I pee on the spongy end anyway. The directions say to lay it flat for five minutes, so I put it on the counter and snap a picture for Finn.

Happy? I text.

I get to throw your baby shower, right?

I'm not pregnant, I reply.

Oh, can I be the G.o.dmother?

I'm not pregnant.

Your kid can call me Aunt Finn.

I'm NOT pregnant!

I glance back down at the stick. Is that ... ?

No.

I dig through the garbage to find the instructions. Panic rises in my throat as I skim over the words. I look at the stick again. Back at the picture.

Back at the stick.

"Oh s.h.i.t."

Chapter 39.

Present day 11:03 a.m.

I'm playing the "what if" game. Running through scenarios in my mind, wondering if I'd done something different, would we still be here?

What if I'd said "I love you" before he left for work this morning?

What if I'd let him in instead of pushed him away?

What if we would've put new brakes in the car?

What if he'd left ten minutes earlier?

What if I would've called him again?

What if I'd never been stung by a jellyfish back in Cancun?

The last thought pierces me straight through the heart. If I never met Maverick, he'd be okay. It's when you lose the game. The lies pile up, making you believe you have more power than you really do. The game devours you. Creates counterfeit paths from the past to the future, and, at the center, is your wrong choice. No one ever wins.

I know this. Yet, I still play, and the grays become darker with more shadows creeping in from the corners.

Finley's on her third cup of coffee, and I'm not finished with my first. It's cold.

"Want ice? Iced coffee is pretty decent," Finn asks.

"No, I'm good." I glance at the clock. "He should be out of surgery now, shouldn't he?"

"I think so too. I'll go find a nurse."

I fold my legs under me and pull out my phone. No one has called or texted me today. I wouldn't have answered if they had. Still, I open up my messages, the last one from Maverick last night.

"Meeting running late. Be home when I can."

What if this was the last thing he ever says to me?

I stare down the hallway again. The image of the little boy stays with me. His dark eyes and dark lashes, miniature versions of Maverick's, and I think about our son. I bet his eyes are the same color, dark like Maverick's, with long lashes and a killer smile. I bet he loves playing with little toy cars too.

A tear slips out, and I wipe it away. Then I go back to my phone and type out the text I should have sent last night.

Send.

Okay. I love you. See you soon.

I have my phone pocketed just as Finley returns. "They're getting him settled in his room. Dr. Santos will be here in a moment to speak with you."

"Is that all they said?"

"They don't tell you anything. They sure as h.e.l.l aren't going to tell me anything." She grabs her Styrofoam cup. "I'm getting more coffee. Want some?"

I shake my head.

She stops and examines me. "You're cheeks are red, Ali."

"Stupid thoughts again."

"That little boy?"