I hope I don’t disappoint him again.

He gently slides me off his lap and stands up.

“Where’s the nearest pharmacy?” he asks. “You stay here and keep working. I’ll go get a pregnancy test.”

I give him directions, and two minutes later he’s burning rubber pulling out of my driveway.

While he’s gone I think about what it would be like to have a child. I’ve never seriously considered it before because I didn’t think it would ever happen for me. And now the thought of carrying Sam’s child feels like the most natural thing in the world.

I love the baby already.

Please God, let me be pregnant.

***

Sam roars back minutes later and rushes into the house with two bags. He hands one bag to me and pulls a two-liter bottle of ginger ale and a box of saltine crackers out of the other.

“What is that for?” I ask.

“Morning sickness,” he answers. “Trish lived off of this for a month when she was pregnant.”

“Aren’t you getting a little ahead of things here?”

He takes my hand.

“Come on. Let’s go do the tests.”

“Tests?” I repeat. “How many pregnancy tests did you buy?”

“Three. I couldn’t decide between the different brands. So I bought them all.”

“I can handle the test by myself,” I say. “You sit here and have a glass of ginger ale and some crackers.”

I take out the pregnancy tests and head for the bathroom where I place them all on the counter. After reading through the directions on all three, I choose the test where the actual words ‘pregnant’ or ‘not pregnant’ appear. Keeping it simple will give me the best chance of not screwing it up.

I sit down on the toilet and notice a shadow under the bathroom door.

“I can’t pee if you’re standing there,” I say. “At least move down the hallway.”

Sam sighs and I hear him walking a few feet away.

“Farther.”

He chuckles and makes a point of stepping loudly down the hallway.

I take a deep breath and pee on the stick.

How did my life change so fast?

I would have never imagined being in this place. After carefully placing the test on the counter, I call for Sam.

“You can come in now.”

He tentatively opens the door and steps inside.

“How long does it take?” he asks.

“Three minutes.”

He leans back against the door, crosses his arms, and gives me that slow smile that I always find so damn irresistible.

“A few months from now, I bet I have a raging fetish for pregnant women,” he jokes. “Or a pregnant woman, I should say. Your boobs are going to be gigantic.”

“How can you think about sex at a time like this?”