The test is positive.
I'm sitting in my doctor's office at 9:17 AM, staring at the blood work results like they might change if I look hard enough.
They don't change.
"Congratulations," Dr. Martinez says. She's smiling. Genuinely happy. Like this is good news.
Maybe for some people it would be.
"How far along?" My voice sounds disconnected from my body.
"Based on your LMP and the HCG levels, I'd estimate about five weeks. We'll do an ultrasound to confirm, but—" She's still talking but I've stopped hearing.
Five weeks.
I count backward. Five weeks ago was—
Vegas. Night Three. The Venetian suite where we first made love. Where this whole mess started three years ago and restarted five weeks ago.
Not last night. Not the emotionally charged sex in his penthouse. This happened before. Before I knew I was falling for him again. Before everything got complicated.
Or maybe it was already complicated and I just didn't know it yet.
