Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 90266 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 451(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90266 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 451(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
“But it’s crazy, right?” I look up at her with teary eyes as she sits back down, watching me worriedly. “It’s absolutely bananas to even consider marrying a guy I’ve known for three months, right?”
Sarah toys with the idea as she takes another bite of her omelet and another sip of her mimosa. “I don’t know, Jenna,” she admits. “It’s kind of crazy, but sometimes the best ideas are.” She flashes a sudden grin at me. “Like, remember when we were nineteen and decided we wanted to start a band?”
I laugh, wiping a tear away with my fingertips. “Very true,” I concede, finally starting on my pancakes. Sometimes, just airing your worries with your best friend helps your appetite come back with a vengeance.
We eat and chat for a while, and I feel considerably better. It’s comforting to know that whatever choice I make, I’ll have Sarah’s support. Near the end of the meal, though, it feels like a rock has settled in my stomach. I brush it off as lingering anxiety, but when we split the check and gather our coats, I realize that I’m going to be sick.
“I’ll be right back,” I say in a rush to Sarah, and practically sprint to the bathroom.
When I emerge about ten minutes later, looking even paler than usual, Sarah’s holding my coat and looking concerned. “Are you okay?” she asks.
“Yeah, sorry,” I mumble, not wanting to go into detail. I take my coat from her and offer a weak smile. “Probably ate something weird. Let’s go home and watch some dumb movies, okay?”
When we’re back at Matt’s, though, I’m curl into the fetal position on the leather couch while nursing an aching stomach. I lay with my head in Sarah’s lap and she strokes my hair. “You sure you’re okay, baby?” she asks.
“Ugh, I hope it’s not food poisoning,” I say. “Especially since you’re only here for a few days.”
“Don’t worry about me!” she exclaims. “I can entertain myself no matter what. You know that. You just focus on feeling better. What should we watch next?”
I pick up the remote and flip through our streaming service of choice. I settle on an old romcom that Sarah and I loved years ago. Halfway through it, we’re cackling like we’re teenagers again. Suddenly, I feel an awful twinge in my stomach.
“Oh, God,” I mutter, and run to the bathroom again. I barely make it in time.
When it’s over, I sit on the cold tile, drawing my knees up to my chest. I haven’t felt this terrible in a while. I usually only get sick when I’ve had too much to drink, which is an unfortunately common occurrence on tour. But I only had two Bloody Marys this morning, which isn’t much given my tolerance. Something else must be going on.
I hear a tentative knock on the door. “Jen?” Sarah asks. “Can I come in?”
“I’ll be out in a sec,” I say.
“No, just let me come in there.”
I roll my eyes but am secretly comforted by her persistence. “Okay, fine.”
Sarah opens the door and tiptoes into the large bathroom. She unceremoniously plops down on the floor opposite me, mimicking the position in which I’m sitting. “How are you doing, buddy?” she asks.
I wince and place a hand on my stomach. “Not great. Come to think of it, I felt kind of nauseous yesterday too, but I didn’t get sick like this. I wonder if I have the flu.”
Sarah looks at me so intently that I can only ask, “What?”
“Jenna,” she says, her brows furrowed, “Have you and Matt been using protection?”
The implication of her words immediately hits me like a freight train.
“Yes,” I say firmly, batting away the sudden panic building in my gut. “I’m not on the pill because I don’t love chemicals in my body, but we always use condoms.”
“Always?” Sarah presses.
“I mean, most of the time,” I admit feebly. “Maybe once or twice we just got caught up in the moment, you know? And we slipped?”
My best friend throws me a serious look. “That’s something that you can do on the pill and not worry about later, but if you’re only using condoms, you know what can happen…”
“Oh, my God,” I sputter, grabbing a fistful of my hair in trepidation. “Do you think… OMG, do you think I’m pregnant?”
The silence between us speaks volumes.
“Oh my God,” I breathe, looking down at my stomach in a new light. It definitely doesn’t look any different. I wrack my brain, trying to think of the last time Matt and I didn’t use a condom. There was one time a few weeks ago, and one a few weeks before that. My heart begins to thud in double time. Either one of those instances could have resulted in me getting pregnant.
“Do you have any pregnancy tests?” Sarah asks.