Total pages in book: 26
Estimated words: 24138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 121(@200wpm)___ 97(@250wpm)___ 80(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 121(@200wpm)___ 97(@250wpm)___ 80(@300wpm)
So yes, I could be pregnant with his child. It’s not impossible. But then another crushing realization hits me. Maybe the child is Ricky’s. Because in fact, I had unprotected sex with not just Dylan but also Ricky, three months ago.
Holy shit! Quickly, my mind starts computing. Come to think of it, I haven’t had a period in a while, so I probably did get pregnant a while back. With shaking fingers, I pull out my phone and stare at the calendar. It’s possible. I had sex with Ricky, and then met Dylan two days later and had sex with him. Both times, it was unprotected. So this nightmare could actually be true.
Holy shit! What do I do? Limply, my form drops to the shabby couch. Because if I actually am pregnant, it would be impossible to know whose baby it was. As identical twins, Dylan and Ricky share the same DNA, and even a genetic test would be useless. Oh god. I’m going to be sick again.
But I make myself swallow the bile and stride to my bedroom. Once I’m inside, I open the window to blast myself with a cool breeze. It helps, for sure. I sit on the bed in my towel and try to get my mind around what to do. There’s panic bubbling up inside, but I force it down. There’s no point in completely freaking out until I actually know for sure that I’m definitely pregnant. First things first.
So I get dressed and head to the nearest pharmacy to buy a pregnancy test. As I'm browsing the different brands, I think back on how I’d often pictured this moment. In my fantasies, I’d be strolling down the aisle shopping for pregnancy tests with a ring on my finger and my dapper, loving husband by my side. A husband of whom I was sure was the daddy of my baby. Oh god, I’m gonna be sick again. I buy three different brands of pregnancy test and get the hell out of there. It says on the back that the best time to do the pregnancy tests is during the first pee of the day, but I don’t have the patience to wait until tomorrow to take them. I bought three for a reason: for reinforcements.
But there is no doubt. I drink a ton of water and pee three times in one hour, and each and every single one of the pregnancy tests comes out positive. Oh my god. It’s true. I’m pregnant! Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit. If I could be sure that it was Dylan’s, I’d be over the moon – and maybe he would be too. We could make things official, move in together, and maybe even get married. I have no idea how Dylan feels about starting a family, let alone with me. After all, we’ve never spoken about it. In fact, we’ve never even spoken about “making things official.” Shit. What do I do now?
None of this matters, though. The fact that the baby could very well be Ricky’s completely obliterates any chance of feeling happy about my pregnancy. I haven’t heard from him or seen him at all since he dumped me, and Dylan and I haven’t discussed his brother at all. Caught up in my sudden whirlwind romance with Dylan, I had been able to push away the memory of sleeping with both twins in such a short period of time. Initially it had bothered me. But it wasn’t as if I was cheating, and Ricky clearly wanted nothing to do with me.
But still - who does that? I had been able to lie to myself and tell myself if was okay, even if it’s the kind of thing I’d never be able to tell my grandchildren. But it’s all come back now to bite me in the ass. Here I have the most incredible guy ever, who makes me so happy. And yet I’ve ruined it all by potentially being pregnant with his twin brother’s baby. It’s all my fault! I shouldn’t have thrown myself at Dylan that first time. I should have exerted more self-control. I should have made Ricky wear a condom. So many shoulda, woulda, couldas, and yet all there is are these stupidly positive pregnancy tests. I throw myself down onto the bed and finally allow all the emotions to take hold as I cry my heart out into the pillow.
What do I do now?
9
Dylan
It’s been a week since I got back from my business trip and I know something’s up in a bad way. When I called Fiona to tell her I was back, she acted cold and distant in a way that was completely out of character. She said she wasn’t feeling well and asked if she could call me back. I had been worried about her and decided to give her some space, but when a couple of days went by and I still hadn’t heard back from her, I started thinking something was wrong. Ever since then I’ve been trying to reach her - calls, emails, even calling LOLA to see whether she was turning up for work. Maybe the girl really was sick. But no, she’s been going to work. So she’s avoiding me for some reason.