Either way, I needed to go talk to her and Wyatt about this development. When I got off work, I rode out to Wyatt and Sinclair’s place before going home to let them know about Stark. I didn’t mention Stark’s offer to hire my band. I wasn’t going to play so there was no reason to share that. But it seemed like they should know that Stark wasn’t done fucking with Salvation.
After that, I rushed home, because I had a woman to woo.
18
Trina
I finished a report for the mayor and sent it by email to him for his review. I sat back taking a quick look at my desk calendar. My heart jumped. My fake marriage would be over in a couple of days. Had a month really gone by? Was I just a few days from getting my book back and avoiding making a speech at the Harvest Festival?
I sat confused for a moment as the feeling of triumph I thought I’d feel didn’t manifest. Now that I knew the truth about Ryder’s use of my poems, having the book didn’t seem that important. Of course, I still didn’t want to make a speech. I was glad to be avoiding that, so why wasn’t I feeling more excited about winning this bet? I was going to be going home. Sleeping in my own bed. Living my well-ordered life. I sank in my chair as I realized that going back to my old life was the problem. I’d be leaving Ryder.
I won this bet; being fake married wasn’t hard at all. But if the bet had been to prove that Ryder was the immature fuck-up I’d pegged him as, I’d have lost it. Yes, he had an unorganized and sloppy way of going through life, but he wasn’t immature. While his life wasn’t well-planned, he seemed content in his work.
The truth was, I enjoyed being around him. Maybe it was his relaxed, easy-going manner that was nice. Like osmosis, when I was around him, I felt more relaxed too. That was unless we were having sex, but that sort of tension was good. Really good. Fantastic even. The idea that it would end in a few days brought my mood down.
I tapped my fingers on my desk calendar wondering if he was going to have some sort of special send-off for me, as he seemed to like to commemorate things. We’d not only had a first week anniversary, but a second and third week one as well.
My eyes narrowed as I stared at a date last week. It was empty except for the little red dot I’d put in the corner. My lungs seized as I realized I was supposed to have started my period last week, but hadn’t. Oh God, oh God…this couldn’t be right. I must have mismarked the date.
I pulled up the calendar on my computer to look at past months to see if maybe I was becoming irregular. I hadn’t been before. I was on the pill, for goodness sake. But reviewing the last few months, I was able to piece together that I’d had my period right on time.
How had I not realized that I was supposed to be on my period last week? I was distracted by Ryder. See, that was why getting lost in the flow of things was dangerous. Because I wasn’t on top of everything, carefully executing my life, I ended up missing my period.
Don’t panic. I pressed my hands on the top of my desk and took a couple of breaths. Think, Trina, I demanded. Order. Plan. Execute.
I needed a pregnancy test. I stood, and grabbed my purse and rushed out without telling the mayor, Sinclair or Brooke that I was leaving. I walked down the street to the local pharmacy. As I made my ways to the aisle with the pregnancy tests, I wondered how I could buy it without becoming local gossip. I’d tell them I was getting for Sinclair. She was married, and I was an assistant in her office. It would make total sense. If it got out, I’d fess up to her, and hopefully she’d be okay with it.
I bought the kit without having to make up a story and then hurried back to city hall. I dashed into the bathroom and followed the directions on the box. I sat in the stall with the test sitting on the box resting on the toilet paper dispenser. Thank God no one came into the bathroom.
After the requisite five minutes, I looked at the test and my heart sank, while my blood pressure rose.
Pregnant.
How could this happen? I did everything right! I was on the pill. I was an intelligent, independent woman. This had to be a mistake.
I needed another test. I pulled myself together and headed back outside. I started toward the pharmacy, but then worried about buying a second kit. What if it said the same thing as the first?
I took a seat on a bench in the grassy area around city hall and pulled out my phone. I pulled up the telehealth information from my health insurance provider, and, making sure no one in the area could hear me, called. It took a few minutes, but finally I was on the line with a nurse.
I explained my situation; I was on the pill, but was a week late on my period and just had a positive pregnancy test. “The test
