âI HEARD THE GOOD news!â Lydia sings as she plonks herself on my desk and ruffles my hair with one hand. âYou clever little sausage.â
âSorry, what?â I murmur as I count in my head again.
I must be missing something or just be bad at math.
My phone screen lights up with a text from Rachel. Sheâs probably replying to the panicked voicemail I just left her. I know sheâs boarding two-hundred and fifty passengers onto a flight to Washington right now, so she is probably texting me from the onboard lavatory.
Rachel: Did you work it out yet?
âThe book cover is being finalised by Tina this morning! Youâve aced it, girl! Your work here is done,â Lydia announces.
I pick up my phone and fire back a text to Rachel.
Me: Not quite, but Iâm sure Iâve got it wrong. Donât worry about it. Have a safe flight, and text me when you land.
Rachel: Okay. But text me the minute you know.
I put my phone back down and enlarge the calendar on my computer to full screen.
I narrow my eyes at it as I tap on the weeks with my pen, counting them for the hundredth time.
âArenât you even a tiny bit excited that youâre done? That your role in the campaign is mostly complete?â Lydia leans her face in front of mine, blocking the screen.
âOf course I am. Itâs just⦠oh God, Iâve lost count again.â
âWhat are you doing?â Lydia sits back up and looks at the computer screen. âWhy are you looking at last monthâs calendar?â
âIâm trying to work something out. This is so confusing,â I huff as I lean down to my bag underneath my desk and pull my phone out.
I unlock it and bring up my period tracker.
Lydiaâs eyes go wide as she watches. âMegan? Why are you looking at that and counting? And why is your nose extra crinkly right now?â
âWhat?â My hand flies to it. âItâs not, itâsââ I move my hand back down and chew on my lip as I whisper to Lydia. âMy period is four days late⦠I think.â
âYou think?â she whispers back, her brows shooting up.
âI mean⦠I donât know.â My eyes dart around the office.
Lydia drops her voice low, her eyes fixed on mine. âHow can you not know? Either it is, or it isnât. Whatâs your app say?â
âIt doesnât. I forgot to log the dates of the last one. Iâve probably just got it wrong. I mean, Iâve only just had sex again since my last period. Itâs not enough time for anything to happen, is it?â
I look up at Lydia, willing her to say something that will put my mind at ease and explain all this.
She nods her head. âYouâre right. Unless Fox King has super sperm that defy biology, then itâs not enough time. I remember my neighbour talking about it once when she was trying to conceive. They call it the two-week wait. You ovulate like, two weeks before your period and then have to wait two weeks before you know if youâre late and can take a test. You only had sex on Friday, didnât you? Unless you were at it before when you said you were working late?â She narrows her eyes at me suspiciously, and I fold my arms and glare at her in response. âOkay, thatâs a no. So, you only had sex on Friday, and itâs now Tuesday. Thereâs no way youâre pregnant.â
Relief floods my body, and my shoulders drop as I flop back into my chair and blow out a breath, âthank god.â
âBut thereâs also this thing called implantation bleeding that happens when your period should be. Itâs when the egg burrows into your womb or something. If your last period was normal, then the chances are slim,â she adds.
I bolt back up in my seat, my mouth feeling like Iâve swallowed a load of sawdust as I croak, âImplant⦠what? What do you mean, normal?â
âLike, normal. Whateverâs normal for you.â Lydia studies my face. âIt was normal, wasnât it, Meg?â
âIt was⦠no. It was light and shorter, and⦠shitâ¦Lyds! Why didnât you tell me that before?â
Her hand flies to her chest.
âMe? Iâm not going to ask you to describe it to me, am I? Here, Megan, hereâs a cup. Go measure your flow for me, so we can compare! Maybe itâs not your period, after all. Maybe itâs blood from where your fertilised egg is attaching itself to the inside of you!â
âShh,â I hiss. âOkay, Iâm sorry. Iâm just freaking out here a bit.â
I pick up a pamphlet on my desk and fan myself with it as my heart pounds in my chest.
Lydia gives me a small smile, reaching over to squeeze my shoulder.
âThereâs only one way to find out. Where did you put that test I gave you?â
âIâm not taking a test at work! Donât be ridiculous. I must have just counted wrong.â
âYouâre telling me you can carry on like this for the rest of the day? When all it will take is two minutes?â She looks at me as Iâm wafting my shirt, trying to get some air to my skin.
Two minutes.
Sheâs right.
It will only take two minutes, and then I can stop melting and get on with my work.
Tina might have finalised the cover choices, but I still have a load of other jobs Phil dumped on me this morning after our meeting with Tina. I swear he did it on purpose, so I barely had time to breathe, let alone celebrate what Iâve achieved.
âOkay, fine.â I open the top drawer of my desk and pull out the pink box, slipping it into my bag. âWill you come with me?â
Lydia hops down from the desk. âOf course. Iâm not holding it, though. Youâre going to have to aim yourself.â She winks.
Iâm grateful sheâs trying to put my mind at ease and make light of it. But seriously, what the hell? I canât be. I just canât.
âCome on. Half the office is taking lunch,â she says, looking around. âNo one will even notice youâre gone.â
I walk with her to the ladiesâ toilets, and she darts her eyes back and forth like weâre undercover spies as she pushes me inside and then makes sure all the cubicles are empty.
âGo pee on it. Iâll wait here and time for you.â She leans back against the sinks, making herself comfortable.
I freeze on the spot, unable to get my feet to listen to my brain.
âMegan, go.â
I take one last look at Lydia and drag myself into the stall, closing the door behind me.
âMake sure you take the cap off before you pee,â she calls.
âYou know a lot about this,â I reply as I take the box out of my bag and take the cellophane off.
âIâve taken one before. Havenât you?â
âNo! Until recently, my body thought sex had ceased to exist.â
I pull the plastic stick out of the box and pull off the pink cap as I lift my skirt up and pull my panties down to sit on the toilet.
I canât believe Iâm doing this.
I sit, and nothing happens.
âUm, Lydia?â
âYeah?â
âI canât go.â
âSure you can. Youâve just got stage fright.â
I wriggle around a bit and screw my eyes shut in concentration.
Crashing waves. Running taps. Flowing water.
âLyds, itâs not working.â
âYou can do it. I wonât listen. Iâll sing, okay?â
She doesnât wait for me to answer before the sound of her belting out sweet child of mine fills the room.
I slap my hand over my face.
Of all the songs she could choose.
It does the trick, though, as before she can hit the second chorus, Iâve successfully covered the stickâand my fingers.
I put the cap back on the test and dry it on some toilet paper. âOkay, now what?â
The singing stops.
âNow we wait.â
I get myself ready and open the door, walking over to the sinks to join Lydia.
âHow long has it been?â
She looks at her watch. âTwenty-three seconds.â
âOh God.â
I put the test face down on the counter and then stare at myself in the mirror. My eyes have a wild craziness about them. I donât look like someone whoâs pregnant. Surely, I would know? Iâd glow like they say.
I am definitely not glowing.
My skin is grey, as though Iâm about to throw up. As if on cue, my stomach churns.
âIs it time yet?â I look at Lydia, who shakes her head.
âNo. But it might show already, especially ifââ
I grab the test and turn it over.
âThank god,â I sigh, taking a deep breath to steady the pounding in my chest.
Lydia looks at it. âMegan, youââ
âGod, that was crazy!â I grab her arm as I laugh. âFor a second, I thought I might actually be⦠thank fuck,â I sigh, running my fingers through my hair. I catch sight of myself in the mirror again.
Now Iâm glowing.
My eyes are bright, and Iâm grinning in relief.
I knew I couldnât be pregnant. It was a ridiculous idea. Weâve used condoms every time. Jaxon may be extremely skilled in that area, but he doesnât have super latex-dissolving sperm. I must have gotten my dates wrong or just been stressed with work. Yes, that must be it. Stress and working hard can make your period late.
âMegan? Megan!â Lydia snaps. âYouâve got two lines.â
âI know. Thank God itâs not a plus sign, eh?â I giggle, blowing out a big breath. âHere, Iâll take it. Better put it in the bin at home, just to be safe.â I grasp one end of the test, but Lydia curls her fingers around the other and holds on tight. âLyds, I said Iâll take it.â
âItâs two lines, Meg.â Her face is serious as she stares at me. âRead the box.â
I wrinkle my nose at her as I take the box back out of my bag.
âI donât understand.â I read the text on the back of the box over and over again until the words blur.
âItâs not a plus test,â Lydia says gently, putting her hand over mine. âTwo lines means positive, Meg. Youâre pregnant.â
âIâm⦠not.â I swallow the lump in my throat.
âYes, honey. You are.â
âI canât be.â I stare back at her. âWe used condoms.â
She shrugs her shoulders. âItâs still possible.â
âSay something funny, Lyds. Make a joke. This is all a bad joke.â
She looks at me with a mix of sympathy and worry. âIâm serious, Meg.â
My mouth hangs open as I look back between her and the test.
Two lines.
Two little lines that will change everything.
âLook at it this way. Your baby was conceived in a swanky hotel penthouse. Itâs better than the back seat of a car.â Lydia smiles before wrapping her arm around my shoulders. All I can do is stare back at her. âYou wanted a bad joke?â
I hold the test up, and we both stare at it again.
Stare at the two tiny lines.
âIt explains why you were feeling sick before.â
âI just⦠I canâtââ I put my hand over my mouth. Iâm not even sure what I feel. Like Iâve been let in on a big secret that the universe knew about, only didnât think to tell me, or to even ask me for my opinion.
This canât be real.
âIt wasnât supposed to happen like this, Lyds. I was going to be married and have a house and a coffee machine, the bean kind, and a husband and⦠a dog! Then maybe a baby.â
I screw my eyes shut, so the two lines disappear.
Maybe if I keep them shut, they wonât exist.
âYouâre just doing it in a different order, thatâs all.â She tightens her arm around me, and I drop my head against her shoulder.
I canât be pregnant. We used condoms that first night and every time since. Iâm only just getting to know Jaxon.
âHeâs got a grown-up son. What if he doesnât want more children?â My voice cracks as I suck in a shaky breath and recall his words on the trial day.
âFrom what Iâve seen, heâs crazy about you, Megan. It may not have been long, but who cares? Itâs not about anyone else, just the two of you. Call him and tell him you need to see him.â
I swipe at my eyes with trembling hands. âHeâs at a meeting. He said itâll run into the afternoon.â
âThen call him this afternoon and tell him you need to see him tonight.â
I nod at Lydia, and she wraps her other arm around me, pulling me into a hug.
âItâll be okay. I promise. Itâll all work out. You believe me, donât you?â
âYes,â I lie as I hold on to her.
We sneak back to my desk together.
Everything is exactly the same as how we left it. Frankie still has his head down at his desk, oblivious to the fact my life just got turned on its head. Everyone else is either working or away at lunch.
I slump down into my seat, my fingers still wrapped around the test.
âCan I look again?â
I hand Lydia the test, and she studies it. âItâs not going to change, is it?â I ask, hopefully.
She shakes her head. âNo. Itâs definitely positive.â
âHi Lydia, you look especially beautiful today, like aââ
âTim!â Lydia plasters a smile on her face as he approaches my desk out of nowhere.
She thrusts the test towards me behind her back. My hands are still shaking, so instead of taking it from her, I accidentally knock it out of her hand, and it bounces on the floor, landing by Timâs feet.
He bends and scoops it up. âMegan, you dropped this.â His brows knit together as he looks at the result window and then holds it out towards me.
Lydiaâs eyes whip to my face and then back to Tim.
âOh, thatâs mine, Tim.â She bats her eyelashes. âThank you.â She plucks it from his hand as he pulls at his collar, growing flustered.
âOh, I see. Right, well. Youâre welcome, Lydia. Iâll see you later.â He hurries off as though he canât wait to escape.
âYou didnât have to do that,â I say once heâs out of earshot.
She waves her hand in the air. âYes, I did. Besides, he probably doesnât even know what it means.â
âReally?â I raise a brow at her.
âYeah. Even if he does, so what? Itâll buy you some time to get your head around it and speak to King Fox.â
âThank you,â I whisper.
âIâm your friend, Megan. Anything I can do, you only have to ask, okay?â
âMake it all a dream?â
âExcept that. I canât perform magic.â She smiles at me as she squeezes my hand. âYou going to be alright?â
âYeah,â I breathe, looking at the back of my desk, where the empty cup of ginger tea sits. âIâll be fine. You go. Theyâre going to wonder where you are in accounts.â
She rolls her eyes. âAnother fun afternoon in accounts.â
âAt least itâs not Philâs filing,â I murmur, giving her a small wave as she blows me a kiss and heads off to the lifts.
When sheâs gone, I fire off a quick text to Rachelâor a small grenade, I should say.
Then I sink my head into my hands and close my eyes, hoping that the twilight zone Iâve found myself in will disappear any second.
Any second nowâ¦
⦠please?
I take a deep breath in through my nose and blow it out slowly.
Iâm pregnant.
With Jaxonâs baby.
What. The. Hell?