After another hour, I leave to find a nearby café to grab lunch, my stomach already grumbling with hunger. My body and feet sigh in thanks the second I sit down. I haven’t done this much walking in forever. I order and when the food comes out quickly, I devour it all. People watching keeps me entertained, but I can’t help but think of how much more fun this would be with Callie and Jill. A pang of loneliness hits me and I jump as my phone rings from its place in my bag.
I can hardly believe the caller ID. “Callie?”
“Alicia! It’s so good to hear your voice!”
“Same. I was just thinking about you, and then you called.”
“I miss you. It’s been too long.”
“How are you? How’s Ash?”
“We’re good. He ran out to the store and I thought I’d try you.”
“I’m glad you did.”
“The time zone thing is killer. I’d call more, but I don’t want to wake you, and weekends seem to fill up. I can’t believe you’ve been gone for four months now.”
“No.” I shake my head, sure she’s wrong, but then realize the date. I exhale a long breath. “Shit. You’re right.” I can’t believe it’s taken me so long to get out and enjoy the city. I’m in one of the most beautiful places on the earth, full of history, and I need to take advantage. I have to stop living in the past.
Four freaking months.
Oh. My. God.
My stomach plummets and the food I consumed threatens to reemerge. With my heart hammering in my chest, I quickly do the math—count the days—but really there’s no point. I haven’t had a menstrual cycle since I’ve been here in London. I knew it had been a while. Attributed missing a month due to stress, but I’ve been living in a state of denial, because four months is a hell of a long time. “Shit. Callie, I have to go. I’m sorry.” I attempt to mask the terror in my voice but do a poor job.
“Is everything okay?” Callie says, alarm clear in her tone. “Alicia, what’s going on?”
“Nothing. It’s fine. I’m fine. Just . . .” My eyes dart around the table, searching for an excuse. “I spilled my drink,” I lie. “It’s all over my dress. I’ll call you back later?”
“Of course.” Callie’s relief is clear but mine is nowhere in sight. “Call me whenever. Love you.”
“Love you, too,” I whisper breathlessly and end the call before I’m tempted to say more. I grab for my wallet and toss a few bills on the table, then rush down the street.
I’m in a daze, not really seeing or feeling anything around me as I make it back to campus. There’s a pharmacy across the street and I walk inside, my head bowed and heart racing. When I find the pregnancy tests, my head feels light. I wonder if I might pass out. I need to get back to my dorm. I’m seconds from falling apart. Rushing down the aisle, I turn the corner toward the check out and drop the box as I slam into another customer. I suck in a breath. What the—? “Sorry. So sorry.” My hands shake, my gaze dropping to where the pregnancy test fell, and for a second I actually think I might throw up. I can’t move.
“No need to worry,” the man says, squatting down to pick up my dropped item. “Accidents happen.” He stands to his full height. “Oh.” His lips tip up with the start of a smile. A smile I know.
Oh, God. No. The universe must hate me. Because the man standing in front of me is not only one of my students, but he is also the guy from the bar. Simon.
“Oh, fuck.” Recognition dawns on his face as I take back the box of pregnancy tests.
There’s no reason to hide it. He’s already seen what it is, but still I shove the slender box behind my back as if that will erase what just happened.
“Mrs. Martin.” He clears his throat and forces a smile. “It’s good to see you.” His kindness is more than I can take. What must he think of me? How messed up this all is. Before I can turn away my resolve shatters and tears burst from my eyes.
“Oh, bollocks,” he swears, his eyes wide and confused as if he doesn’t know what exactly to do with the professor melting down in the middle of a pharmacy. For some reason his reaction causes me to laugh. Not a normal, joyful laugh but the kind that’s manic and crazy.
“Uh, um.” He glances around. Probably searching for a more responsible adult to handle my outburst.
I hold up the box in my hand, no longer caring about discretion or propriety. What would my mother think? Oh, God. I’m a fucking mess. Tears leak from my eyes as I laugh again. “I’m pregnant—or my ovaries are broken, but I’m probably pregnant—and I don’t know what to do.” I choke out the last words, my crying winning out.
“Hey.” Simon steps forward, his arms warm and comforting as he pulls me to his chest. “It’s going to be okay.”
“It’s not,” I manage to say between sobs. I don’t know what I’m going to do. I don’t have anyone to talk to, not about this. That hurts the most. The pang of homesickness is almost too much.
“Hey, it’s going to be okay.” Simon rubs my back, whispering words of comfort as I continue to cry at the end cap of the pharmacy. As unprofessional as it is, I let him, leaning into his solid form. “I’ve got you. I’m here. You’re going to be just fine,” he murmurs into my hair.
God,
