Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 81333 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 407(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81333 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 407(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
My stomach drops as I round the corner. “She’s nuts.”
“She’s not nuts,” Poppy whispers. “Hang on.” I hear her heels clicking against the floor and the sound of chimes. “I had to come outside you were talking so damn loud. What the hell is going on?”
“You know what she said?”
“Quack, quack?”
“Very funny. No. She is a quack. She didn’t say quack. Ugh,” I groan. “Don’t distract me.”
“Fine. What did she say?”
“She had the audacity to say I’m pregnant, Pop. Can you believe that shit?”
The line goes quiet. My exuberant, chatty friend doesn’t say a word.
“Poppy?”
“Are you?”
“No, I’m not pregnant!” A flock of birds launch into a tree above me and I look around to see a group of people staring at me. Rolling my eyes, I storm by them too. “No, I’m not,” I say, quieter this time. “Why do I keep explaining this to everyone? You have to have sperm to have a baby.”
“Have you slept with anyone?”
“No. Not since Branch.”
“Layla . . .”
A full-on shiver that starts at my shoulders and rolls through my body like a Garth Brooks song hits me hard. I stand at the corner of Plane and Veroca and stare off into space.
“Did he use a condom?” she asks.
“Yeah. He did,” I say, shaking out of my trance. “So explain that and I’m on the pill.”
“Weirder things have happened.”
“To weird people, maybe. I’m not a weird person.”
“You were sick before the cabin, weren’t you? Were you taking antibiotics?”
I try to swallow, but my throat constricts at the same time. Bent over, halfway choking and the other half gagging, I nearly drop my phone as I try not to die.
“Layla! Layla, are you okay?”
“Yes,” I say past the burn. “Give me a second.” It takes longer than a second to get myself upright and fully oxygenated. “I’m here,” I croak.
“Dude, you scared me.”
“Don’t make this about you,” I laugh, my voice still hoarse from the coughing fit. Once my laughter has faded and the line is quiet again, I feel the heavy burden of being alone. Despite the sea of people racing by me on the corner of this street in downtown Chicago, I’m alone. “I can’t be pregnant, can I?”
“I don’t know. I tell you what—let me wrap up a project I have open. It might take an hour. Then I’ll meet you at your apartment. I’ll bring chocolate and tissues and a pregnancy test, then a bottle of champagne for after when it’s false.”
Despite my need to vomit all over the sidewalk, I smile. “Thanks, Poppy.”
“You’re welcome.”
CHAPTER 14
LAYLA
Lifting a spoon of vanilla icing to my mouth, I watch Poppy enter the kitchen. Her phone is to her ear, a plastic grocery bag in one of her hands. She looks at me with brows tugged together, her lips forming a sympathetic curve.
“I’m at Layla’s,” she says into the phone. “Oh, no. We’re just doing girl stuff.”
She sits the bag on the counter and drops her keys next to it. “Layla, Finn and Branch say hello.”
“Fuck him,” I groan.
“That’s what got you in this mess,” she growls, narrowing her eyes. “Oh, no, Finn. I was talking to your sister. Her, um, her kitchen is a mess. Something she was testing out just turned into a shit storm really quick. That’s why I’m here. To help figure out how to clean it up.”
“Nice double entendre, asshole,” I tell her, not bothering to lower my voice.
“Yes, Finn. I will. I’ll call you when I’m done here. Bye.” She swipes the phone off and lets it go sailing across the counter. “You ready for the big reveal?”
“This is not a game.”
“We should make it fun,” she shrugs. “Want to take bets?”
“No, I don’t want to take bets, you lunatic.”
She takes a step back and looks me up and down. “This baby is going to be gorgeous. I mean just beautiful.”
“There is no baby!” I shout, even stomping my feet a little for effect. The slight hold I have on my sanity is fraying at an alarming rate and I am almost unable to find any strands left to hold on to. “I’m not having a baby.”
“Let’s take a test and be sure. And then, when you’re not, we’ll drink the champagne I just paid way too much for at the corner store and celebrate.”
“Deal.”
She rustles through the bag and pulls out a test that promises to be simple and to provide accurate results sooner than any other brand. She hands it over.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this.” I march down the hall and into my bathroom and close the door. “I was on the pill,” I yell through the wall, ripping open the package. Laying the back of the box on the counter so I know which marking means what, I yank down my pants and sit down.
“Antibiotics!” she shouts back.