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[Ren]And your tits. And your lips. And your laugh. And your eyes.

[Jasmine]This is an interesting mix of romantic and horny. Who are you?

[Ren]Just a guy texting a girl.

[Jasmine]Because you’re horny.

[Ren]Maybe I legit miss you.

[Jasmine]Then come meet me.

[Ren]Time and place.

[Jasmine]Also you’re Ren in my phone now.

[Jasmine]Is that too much?

[Ren]No. I just maybe feel less horny and a lot more emotionally romantic. Tell me where to meet you while I gather my fucking heart.

“They’re ready.” Catherine pulls my attention away from my phone.

“Why do I feel sick?”

“Are you worried? Do you want me to look first?”

It’s tempting, but despite the increasing patter of my heart, I shake my head. “No. No, it’s fine.”

Catherine moves out of the way, and I approach the counter where the three tests lie neatly in a line, each displaying the same result.

Pregnant.

I stare at them until my eyes blur.

“Sooo,” Catherine says softly. “How are you feeling? Disappointed? Upset? Angry?”

Slowly, I shake my head as a surge of static rushes through my chest. I feel like I can’t breathe for a moment, then I lift myeyes, and the moment our gazes meet, I burst out laughing. “Oh my God! I’m pregnant!”

“Are these happy tears?!” Catherine cups my face which alerts me to the dampness on my cheeks. “Are you happy?”

“Yes!” I pull her into a hug and squeeze her tightly. “Yes!”

Roman meetsme in a bridal boutique later that afternoon while Catherine attends a follow-up appointment at the hospital. Despite offering to stay with her, she’s determined to do this herself, so I send Roman an address and he arrives within half an hour.

“A bridal boutique?” Roman’s voice drifts through the curtain where I’m in the middle of squeezing into the custom-made wedding dress my mother had created for me. Her attention to detail is to be admired as lace that feels like a second skin slides over my arms and caresses my back.

“I have stuff to do and you wanted to meet,” I call back. “Or would you have rather waited another few hours?”

“I’m not a patient man.” Roman’s steps sound on the other side of the curtain. “Are we to talk through fabric the entire time? I’m not against it, but how much imagination should I be using?”

“Picturing me naked would be accurate,” I reply with a smirk.

“On it,” Roman snorts lightly.

I need to tell him I’m pregnant. Assuming three drugstore tests can be believed. I hadn’t factored something like this into any of my plans, and it’s still surprising that I wasn’t upset by the news. Do I want a baby? Will Roman want a baby? Will it mess up our plans?

Too many thoughts jumble together so I turn toward the curtain and rip it open, forcing Roman to become my focus rather than my own thoughts.

He’s halfway across the room, and when he turns to face me, his face relaxes in open shock for a moment, then he slaps his hands over his eyes. “No! It’s bad luck to see the bride in her dress before the wedding!”