Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 68630 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68630 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
“He works for his uncle.”
“Yeah, well, do the math and stay away from him. He’s bad news.” She sighs. “I really gotta go. I’ll walk you out.”
“At least tell me what kind of bad shit.”
She stops and looks at me with an expression of worry and pity and pretty much nothing good.
“Russian mafia, Kat. The fucking Russian mafia kind.”
Six weeks later
8
Kat
True to his word, Lev pretty much disappears from my life. There are moments when I feel the hair on the back of my neck stand on end, and every time that happens, hope bubbles up in my belly.
But that hope is quickly followed by a not-so-little pang of disappointment when I turn around and realize it’s not him. Realize he meant it when he said I wouldn’t see him again. It doesn’t stop me from thinking about him, though. That hasn’t changed. Well, maybe it’s gotten worse, but I’m hoping my trip to the drug store on my way home from work will put my mind at ease.
Rachel is unpacking groceries when I walk in a little after nine at night. She’s working a late shift tonight.
“Hey,” she says when she sees me.
I set my bag down to help her unpack. We split the grocery shopping, so we each go once a week, and then we split the cost down the middle, which works really well.
“How was work?” she asks.
“Long. But I got decent tips tonight.”
I open one of the plastic bags, and my stomach turns when I smell fish.
“Salmon was on sale. I got two pieces,” Rachel says with a proud smile. “You liked it last time.”
I did. I do. But tonight, I’m going to be sick. “I just ate at the diner,” I lie. “Maybe we can freeze it?”
“Sure.” We unpack the groceries, and I’m holding my breath almost the entire time. As soon as everything’s put away, I pick up my things and go into the bathroom. I lock the door that leads to Rachel’s bedroom and take out my purchase. I count the days again, although I’ve already counted a dozen times.
Lev and I had sex four times. We used a condom two of those times. I’d just finished my period three days before, so there’s really no way. I mean, there’s really, really no way I can be pregnant. It would be insanely unlucky.
Although hasn’t that always been the sort of luck I attract?
I’ve gone back and forth with this logic for days now, and there’s no denying the fact that I’m late.
I take the pregnancy test out of its package and set it down on the toilet to pee on the stick. I know how this goes. It’s not the first time I’ve done this. But it’s been four years since I’ve had a scare.
The results show up pretty quickly. I know it says to wait, but I know it’s almost immediate. And like I knew it would, that little pink plus sign shows up right away.
My heart sinks into my belly. I drop the stick in the sink and grab the second test and pee on that, too. There’s a third one in the box too, but I don’t bother. I have my answer. Had it before these little plus signs.
I’m pregnant.
A knock on the door startles me. “Kat, you okay in there?” Rachel asks.
Crap. “Yeah. Sorry, I know you need to shower before work. I’ll be out in a sec.”
Cleaning up, I pick up the tests and drop them back into their box and then put the box back into the plastic bag. I wash my hands and walk back into my bedroom to process.
I’m pregnant.
I’m pregnant with Lev’s baby.
“Shit.”
My hands shake as I pick up my phone, and with fingers shaking so badly, it takes three attempts to get my text to Nina to make sense.
Me: I need to see you.
No answer even though she’s online.
I start to type another message but decide to call her instead. The call goes right to voicemail. “Nina. Fuck.” A sob escapes. “I really need to see you. I’m on my way.”
Pulling on my pink scarf and jacket, I rush out of the apartment and run to the bus stop. It’s raining again. Sheets of it drenching me, but I barely notice. A woman I run into here almost daily says hello, but I can’t manage my usual smile. At least the bus is on time tonight, and I’m grateful for the burst of heat when I get inside.
Pregnant.
I’m pregnant.
I walk down the aisle, catching myself on the back of a chair when the bus lurches forward. My gaze slides to the seats reserved for the elderly and pregnant women.
I’m fucking pregnant.
“Fuck.”
I sit down at the back of the bus and stare absently out the window. I’m in a daze for the entire ride, and only when I’m getting off the bus does my phone vibrate in my back pocket.