Chapter 3: Secrets and Ants

I tossed the pregnancy test stick in the trash, grabbed some tissues, crumpled them up, and covered it.

My hands shook so hard the test almost slipped from my fingers. My stomach twisted, and I wanted to vanish.

Pregnant.

My heart was pounding out of my chest.

What do I do, what do I do?

It felt like all the air in the bathroom got sucked out, and I pressed my back to the cool tiles, clutching my knees, shivering even though it wasn’t cold.

Someone knocked on the bathroom door—a deep, magnetic male voice: “Babe, why’d you lock the door?”

His voice was lovely.

But hearing it right now just made me even more annoyed.

My heart thudded as I shoved the test deeper under the tissues. I fumbled with the trash can lid, then tried to steady my breath.

I made up a reason: “I’m taking a shower.”

Outside, he said, “C’mon, you know I don’t mind sharing. Let me in.”

Playing along, I quickly stripped, grabbed a towel, and opened the door.

As soon as the door swung open, before I could even see his face, I was scooped into a broad embrace.

He held me tight, chin resting on top of my head.

The scent of bitter orange leaves surrounded me.

He spoke first: “Babe, the woman you saw today was just my old middle school classmate. She called my name, but honestly, I forgot who she was. I was just confused about how she knew me, so I talked to her. There’s nothing between us.”

“Back in school, there was nothing either. I never dated anyone, never had any messy relationships.”

“I didn’t explain earlier because I wanted you to get jealous. Babe, don’t be mad.”

He was talking nonsense. I couldn’t even listen.

I said, “I’m not mad.”

“You are. You’re in a bad mood.”

That’s because my period’s late.

I’ve never had irregular periods.

Last month, on his birthday, he made some requests.

We didn’t leave the house for a whole day and night.

I forgot to take my birth control.

I forced myself to calm down, hooked my arms around his neck: “No, you’re imagining things.”

He looked down at me.

I blinked. “Really, I’m not mad.”

His frown didn’t ease.

“You are.”

I couldn’t argue and didn’t want to fight.

I kissed him, skillfully unbuckling his belt.

If I could just keep his hands busy, maybe he’d stop asking questions.

Derek suddenly let go: “Why does it always end up like this?”

Then he pushed me away and left the bathroom.

Me:

I stared blankly at myself in the mirror.

Hmm, even without makeup, I looked great. My figure was amazing.

Clearly, it wasn’t my fault.

What was wrong with Derek?

The bathroom felt suddenly too quiet, the mirror fogging around the edges, my reflection blurring at the chin. I pressed a fingertip to my lips, still tasting the salt of tears I hadn’t even noticed. I was caught somewhere between annoyance and panic—like my body knew something my brain didn’t want to process.