“The heat isn’t the problem.”
“Have you tried turning on the faucet? The sound of running water might help.”
“I’m not going to stand here having a conversation with you about my inability to pee.”
“You already are.”
She rolled her eyes, then pointed at the front door. “Go stand in the hall until I’m done.”
“I’ve had my tongue in your mouth.”
“So not the point.”
“We can have sex, but I can’t be in the next room while you go to the bathroom?”
“Exactly.”
“Fine.” He crossed the room and let himself out. Then he stuck his head back in. “What should I tell the neighbors if they ask why I’m loitering?”
“Don’t make me kill you.”
He laughed and shut the door behind him.
“Men,” she muttered, then returned to the bathroom and pulled down her pants.
After sitting on the toilet, she turned on the faucet and reached for the plastic stick from the pregnancy test. Everything was fine, she told herself. She peed several times a day. It didn’t require a lot of thought or effort. It was natural. Easy.
But at that moment, it felt far from easy. It felt impossible. She turned off the water, tried humming, shifting, breathing more slowly. Her bladder stubbornly refused to empty.
Never again, she told herself. Pregnancy was too hard. When she finally managed to pee on the stick, she was going to get ice cream. The fact that it was chilly outside didn’t matter. She wanted a hot fudge sundae with whipped…
“Oh, no!”
When she’d finally stopped paying attention, her body had responded. She did her thing with the stick, set it on a tissue, then got up, flushed and pulled up her pants. After washing her hands, she walked out to get Raoul.
“Finally,” he said when she opened the door. “Success?”
“I have peed.”
“I’m so proud.”
“Be nice or I’ll make you touch it.”
She went back into the bathroom and carefully carried out the stick on the tissue and set it on a paper towel on the kitchen counter.
“How long?”
“Just a few minutes.”
They stared at the little screen, which showed an hourglass. She could hear the faint ticking of a clock and feel the rapid thudding of her heart. According to the test, the result would announce her condition. Pregnant or not pregnant. As simple as that.
She didn’t allow herself to speculate. Part of her was afraid that she’d lost Crystal’s babies—that they hadn’t been able to hang on. But another part of her was terrified they had.
Raoul put his arm around her. She leaned into him and hung on.
The screen changed and she saw a single word.
Pregnant.
There was no misunderstanding that.
Her body went cold, then seemed to heat from the inside. Her stomach flopped over, making her wonder if she was going to throw up. Reality loomed, like a really big storm, but she couldn’t take it all in. Pregnant. She was pregnant.
“You did it!” Raoul crowed, then grabbed her around the waist and spun her in the center of the room. “You’re going to be a mom.”
He sounded delighted. She felt like she was going to pass out, although that could have been from the world blurring around her.
A mom? Her? “I can’t,” she whispered.
He set her down. “Sure you can. This is great, Pia. The embryos implanted. This is great news.”
Intellectually, she could agree. This is what Crystal wanted. But in her gut, she was deathly afraid of screwing up.
“I have to sit down,” she said, making her way over to a kitchen chair and dropping onto it. She closed her eyes and focused on breathing.
Pregnant. Right now there were babies growing inside of her. Babies who would be born and become actual children, then real people. Babies who would depend on her and expect her to take care of them.
Raoul pulled up a chair and sat across from her. He took her hand in his. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t think I can do this. I can’t have children. I don’t know how.”
“Don’t they do all the hard work themselves?”
“The forming and growing, maybe, but then what? They’re going to have expectations. I’m not prepared for this.”
He leaned toward her. “You have eight and a half months and I’ll help.”
“You’re going to be my pregnancy buddy.” She pulled her hand free and stood. “Don’t get me wrong—I appreciate the support. But I’m less concerned about being pregnant than what comes after. I’m going to have to buy stuff. I haven’t got a clue what. There must be a list somewhere, right? On the Internet?”
He rose. “I’m sure there is.”