His brow furrowed and he moved to sit beside her. “Turn up? You mean it’s late?” That stern expression froze her solid for a beat, but wait, no. Silly. No need to panic.
“Periods don’t really come late when you’re on the Pill,” she said. “They come or they don’t. My first cycle, I skipped it entirely. Another time it only lasted a day. That’s pretty common. But I do feel PMS-y.” The horniness was unusual for that time of the month, but she’d also had an achy back and a general feeling of off-ness the past couple days, of spacy distraction.
“I’d have to google it,” she said. “Maybe your period can come late if your body’s still getting used to the hormones…” The more she spoke, the deeper the barbs of doubt pricked.
“You don’t sound too sure.”
“It’s really, really unlikely that I could be…” She didn’t even want to say the word aloud. “Though I guess I could pick up a test after work, just to put our minds at ease.”
“Maybe.”
Weird. She’d never taken a pregnancy test before, never had any reason to.
What if I was? she wanted to ask. Pregnant.
She had less than a speck of a clue what answer she’d hope to hear from him.
A baby was simply not an option at this point in her life. The only thing about it that made sense was that this man should be the father.
“It’s really unlikely.” She said it to soothe herself as much as Flynn. “I haven’t missed a single pill.” She kept them in her purse, paranoid about forgetting them some night when she was crashing at Flynn’s. Took them each evening at the same time she flossed her teeth, using each chore as a cue to keep her from skipping the other.
“Up to you,” he said.
“I’ll see how I feel after work. Speaking of which, let’s get you taken care of. Clock’s ticking.”
Though his cock was still hard, he smiled and shook his head. “Not half as fun if I can’t get you off. You want my mouth?”
“No, my brain’s kinda hijacked, now. Thanks, though. But seriously, we can do you. I don’t mind.”
“You’re sleepin’ over tonight, right? I’ll save it up.”
“Oh good, I’ll be in for the mauling of a lifetime.”
He grinned. “You know it.”
“Right. Let me hop in the shower and we’ll get this show on the road.”
“You want coffee?”
“I’d love coffee, thank you.”
Flynn didn’t drink caffeine but he’d bought a coffeemaker just for her. A steaming mug was waiting when she emerged from the shower, dressed, a towel turbanned around her head. Flynn owned a hairdryer too, and she sometimes wondered who he’d bought that for originally, since he certainly didn’t use it. She liked to tell herself it was for shrink-wrapping the windows come winter or some other such manly, practical purpose, but it was nearly March and the view of the neighboring brick was as crisp as always.
Whatever. Every lover he’s had has made him the man he is today. I ought to be sending out thank-yous.
The man himself was nowhere in sight, which meant he was either chatting with his sister three floors down or doing something with his car. It always felt intimate and strange to be in this apartment without him. Like she was snooping, even though she never had. If she wanted to, it wouldn’t take long; he was the most minimalist person she’d ever encountered. If she moved in here, her possessions would make this lofty space feel instantly cluttered. And far more like home.
She turned at the sound of the key in the lock and smiled. He’d probably been gone for all of ten minutes, but the overprotectiveness charmed her. It was a novelty to someone who’d grown up with a mother as detached and careless as Laurel’s.
He was wearing a knit cap and his canvas jacket, cheeks burned pink. “Fuckin’ freezing out there.”
“Hard to believe it’ll be spring in a few weeks. You warming the car up?”
“No, checking on Heather’s.” Heather was his sister. “She said it wouldn’t start and it looks like she’s right.”
“Bummer. Hell of a week to get stuck waiting for a bus. Can you fix it?”
“Probably not, unless it just needs a jump or something. If not, I’ll get it towed for her and give the mechanic the stink-eye so they don’t try and overcharge her.”
Laurel smiled. “There should be a name for the opposite of feminine wiles. They get the same results.”
“How’s the coffee?”
“Delicious.”
“The key,” he said, crouching to slide a massive phone book from the bottom of his bookshelf, “is to put in way more grounds than you’re supposed to.”
“Or stop buying Dunkin’ Donuts coffee. It’s so watery, no wonder you need twice as much.”
He glowered, eyes on the pages he was flipping. “You take that blaspheming mouth out of New England, woman.”
“I’m from Providence—I get to say it’s awful.”
He set the Yellow Pages on the counter. Flynn was the only person Laurel knew who actually kept a phone book in the house. It was one of the many reasons she loved him. He owned a computer but barely used it, even though she’d insisted he finally get internet so they could stream movies.
“Almost ready?” he asked, eyeing the Auto Garage listings.