At the next stoplight I retrieved my phone from my bag, and pulled up the calendar. Since I was on the pill I had a pretty good idea of my cycle. I chewed my lower lip as I looked at the dates. The pill wasn’t infallible; I knew that. And the dates could possibly work out. But it didn’t seem very likely. Still, my gut remained tight as I stopped at a drugstore and bought two pregnancy tests—just to be sure—while praying to any gods willing to listen that I wouldn’t run into anyone I knew. Wouldn’t that set the rumor mill spinning!
My luck held, and I made my purchases without anyone but the bored checker knowing. Even made it home without puking. But that’s where my tenuous hold on luck failed me. The crunch of gravel came from behind me as I ran up the steps. I turned, my hand on the doorknob.
The dark blue Crown Vic pulled up and parked next to my car. Ryan gave me a smile as he stepped out, and I fought to give the same in return, hyper-aware of the pregnancy tests in my messenger bag. I glanced down to make sure that the zipper on my bag was closed and spied the cuff on my wrist. Shit. I didn’t want Ryan asking about that. He’d worry, or get pissed, or something else I didn’t feel like dealing with. I knew I’d have to tell him at some point…just not right at this moment. Luckily I was inside the wards now. I hurriedly slipped it off, dropped it in the outer pocket of my bag, and shoved the velcro flap down.
The queasy feeling receded as soon as it was off my arm, and I took a deep breath of relief. Okay, maybe not pregnant after all, I thought a little shakily. At least I hoped that was the cause. Still, I planned on testing to be sure.
I yanked my thoughts away from that topic as