Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 129998 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 650(@200wpm)___ 520(@250wpm)___ 433(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129998 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 650(@200wpm)___ 520(@250wpm)___ 433(@300wpm)
The cramp finally eases and I try getting up again, this time being able to find my feet without any added drama and I thank my body for complying for once.
Dropping the blanket onto the couch, I make my way into the closest bathroom and quickly glance around. I haven’t been in this one before. It’s actually kinda nice in here, though definitely on the larger side of things. I really don’t get why Charles insisted on building a house with so many bedrooms and bathrooms. There’s no way he could ever have had a use for it all. I also don’t understand the need for having more bathrooms in a house than bedrooms. That just boggles my mind.
Being the nosey bitch that I am, I find myself peeking in the cupboards and roll my eyes at how it’s fully stocked. There are shampoos, conditioners, body washes. I mean, who is actually going to use this stuff? I don’t think anyone else has actually stepped foot into this bathroom since before Charles was killed by my supposedly best friend.
I open the drawer next and find more menstrual supplies than any woman could ever need and I search through the options, you know … just in case. There’s nothing worse than having your period come up and surprise you, only to find yourself not prepared.
As I search through all the products and stare at a diva cup in horror, my fingers brush over a box that has my world coming to a standstill.
Pregnancy tests.
My brow arches. If I’m going to be technical, then yes, it’s a possibility—but it’s on the lower end. Having PCOS makes it difficult for me to get pregnant anyway so the chances are slim, yet for some reason, I find myself picking up the box.
Colton and I have been having unprotected sex which in itself is fucking stupid, but it couldn’t hurt to take the test anyway. In the grand scheme of things, I guess it’s better to know than to leave it. What’s one wasted test? Besides, I know those cramps all too well. It’s definitely my period coming and judging by how bad it hurt, it’s going to be a nasty one.
I take the box, as well as all my other supplies over to the toilet with me and sit my ass down. The cool porcelain stings my ass for the slightest moment as it gets accustomed to the chill. Desperate to pee, I tear the box apart and quickly glance over the test. I’ve seen chicks do this in movies all the time. You just hold it down there, pee on it, and wait, right? It couldn't be that hard.
Feeling confident that I’m overthinking things, I get it over and done with before finishing up on the toilet. I find myself glancing at the bidet that almost seems to be staring at me, enticing me to climb aboard and ride the bidet train.
I mean … I have two minutes to wait before I can check the test results. I wonder if I was to hit the right spot, if it’d be worth it …
Nah, that's insane. What am I thinking?
“Sorry,” I mutter to the bidet, pulling my underwear back up my legs and starting to feel the nerves creeping through my bloodstream as the pregnancy test seems to draw every ounce of my attention. “Not today, buddy.”
What is it about pregnancy tests that make you feel so damn sick? The waiting kills me. I’ve only ever had to do one before and that was with Nic. I knew for certain that I wasn't but he wanted me to check anyway. Even then, I hate the waiting. The what-ifs are always a killer.
I pace the bathroom, walking around and around in circles, trying not to look while failing at every turn.
The seconds tick by painfully slow and then finally I allow the anticipation to subside as I take hold of the test and flip it over. My hands shake with nerves.
Please, please, please be negative.
I glance down and scan over the results, my heart racing with fear until my whole world stops.
Fuck. This isn’t good.
Chapter 37
Oh, no, no, no, no, no.
Pregnant? I can not be pregnant.
Colton is going to have a heart attack and Mom is going to whoop my ass. How could we have been so stupid? Unprotected sex?
FUCK.
What were we thinking?
How am I supposed to tell him that I went and got myself knocked up? From the very start, he would accuse me of being just like the other girls who come around here looking for their meal ticket and wanting just this to claim a piece of the Carrington fortune.
Fuck going to college now. I guess that was all an epic waste of my time.
I see it happen all the time to girls. They get pregnant and scared, wondering how the hell they’re going to survive but it's one of those things where you always think ‘no, that wouldn’t happen to me.’