Chapter 0294

“What!” I gasp, shocked, but then I get very angry very fast, ripping my arm out of Jerome’s hand for the third time in about an

hour. “I don’t even know if there is a father, Jerome!”

“Of course there’s a father —“ he shouts, his voice cracking because apparently he’s as freaked out as I am.

“I don’t even know if there’s a baby!” I yell in response, gesturing fervently at the pregnancy tests.

“Ohhh my god,” he groans, sinking back on his own ass and putting his head in his hands. I glance around briefly at the other

customers who studiously avoid our aisle but don’t hesitate to glance down it, their eyes wide and curious. I bury my instinct to

snarl at them all to go fuck themselves and turn my attention back to Jerome.

“Seriously, Fay,” he says, raising his eyes to look at me with sorrow and worry all over his face. “Who is the father? Is it lvan?

Because —*

“Oh my god, Jerome,” I snap, leaning forward to smack him hard on the arm. “Of course it’s not lvan — you know that I’ve only

been sleeping with Kent!”

“I don’t know that, Fay,” Jerome growls between his teeth, saying my name like it’s a curse. “You've had plenty of time alone with

Ivan to get knocked up! It’s the only thing that makes sense, considering Kent’s vasectomy!”

I stare at him, my mouth dropping open a little. “How do you know about that?”

“Everyone knows about that!” Jerome shouts, throwing his hands wide. “Do you seriously think Kent has kept it a secret? All the

women he’s brought around — you think he hasn’t made it clear to all of them, to everyone, that trying to trap him into childcare

payments for the next eighteen years isn’t going to work?”

“Well, I don’t know then!” I cry, throwing my hands in the air, starting to freak out more that Jerome is starting to freak out. “It’s a

miracle then! Or maybe it's the second coming of Jesus! Or maybe I’m sick! All I know is that I have only ever slept with Kent,

and now I haven’t gotten my period in six weeks — and that’s literally all I —*

“Are you SERIOUS Fay!?” Jerome shouts. “Six WEEKS!? What the hell have you been doing!?”

My temper breaks and I snap my mouth shut, leaning forward fast to shove him, hard, knocking him back flat on the ground.

“Fuck off, Jerome,” I growl. “You don’t get to say a god damn thing to me about this.”

And then I push myself to the feet, grabbing the keys from the ground where they've spilled out of his hand and grabbing a

pregnancy test — any pregnancy test — off the shelf and storming towards the front of the store as Jerome just lays there, staring

at the ceiling, apparently having his own stress-induced mental breakdown.

But I come up short a few seconds later and have to slowly turn and wait as the tears again start to roll down my face. It takes

three whole minutes for Jerome to walk out of the aisle, his shoulders slumped and his head hanging. He stops in surprise when

he sees me.

“What?” he asks, glaring at me a little. “Why are you still here? I thought you'd take the car and be gone.”

I heave a heavy sigh and shrug, my mouth starting to tremble again as I look helplessly at him, the keys in one hand, the

pregnancy test in the other.

“I don’t have any money,” I admit, my words squeaky and trembling as they fall from my lips.

Jerome tilts his head back and stares

at the ceiling for a Nil takiqgla I

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“Come on, Fay,” he sighs, leading me

forward to the TONS ed teen ‘\ve

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