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CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

Emerson

“You’re going to be late.” Liz pokes her head into my room as she hurries by. We’ve been home for a day from our visit with Kelton and I can’t shake this grogginess. “Are you sick?”

“I’m drained,” I mumble into my pillow and hear her giggle.

“Monkey sex will do that to you.”

“Go away,” I tell her not lifting my head only waving my hand, motioning for her to leave. She doesn’t but that doesn’t surprise me.

“Did you sleep at all last night? Or did the two of you sit up on the phone like two teenagers?”

“I passed out the second I entered my room. If he called I slept right through it.” I can’t even look. “Honestly I think my phone is still in my bag. I dropped everything to the floor and climbed into bed.”

“Maybe you are coming down with something.”

“Or I need to sleep for a week.” Yeah, that sounds good, I’ll do that.

“What about work?”

“Already called in.” Mel wasn’t happy but he’d get over it.

“So when do we plan on telling Kelton that we’re getting things ready to move to Tennessee?”

“I’m going for the element of surprise.” I need sleep. I find myself praying to whoever is listening that Liz suddenly loses her voice and I’m granted with silence.

“So when we show up on his doorstep with our bags then? Got it!” She laughs. “He closes on the house next week.”

“I know.” Please give me peace.

“Okay I’m leaving,” she says and I hold up my hand giving her a thumbs-up. Again she laughs. “Wow, you and Kelt must have gotten no sleep at all.”

She walks away laughing, and I can’t even fire back at her. My mind is a cloudy, blurring mess of nothing. I’m not even sure I remember what day it is.

I settle in, pulling my blanket over my head just as the front door shuts. Quickly I give in and fade off once more into a deep sleep.

I sit on the edge of the tub, staring down at my hands. A plus sign, strong and clear stares back at me, and I can’t seem to breathe. My chest aches, my hands shake, and I’m instantly shattered.

This wasn’t in the plans, this was not intentional.

“Emerson,” Liz’s voice echoes down the hall and I scramble. Dropping the test twice I shove it down the front of my leggings and pull my T-shirt over just as she appears in the doorway.

“Hey.” She looks around the room and that’s when I see it. The box that the test I hid came in still sitting on the sink. It’s like a neon sign in the middle of a pitch black room. There is really no reason to even attempt to hide it.

“So I guess that would explain the excessive sleeping and sour stomach for the last couple weeks.”

“I don’t know how this happened.” I sit back down and feel the stick poke my stomach. Reaching in I pull it out and she notices what I’m holding.

“Well.” Liz sits down on the edge of the bathtub next to me. “I can tell you how it happened.”

“Okay.” I bump my shoulder against hers. “I know how it happened, you fool. But we were using—” I pause, my mind racing back to our time in Tennessee. It’s all like warp speed, every single touch and then it instantly slows and I remember the very moment we weren’t so careful.

"It was the handprints on the glass.” Liz snickers. “Wasn’t it?”

“Stop it, this is serious.”

“I am fully aware, but honestly what a story to tell.”

“You can’t tell him.” I stand and start to move around the bathroom nervously.

“What do you mean I can’t tell him?” She stands placing her hands on her hips in full blown sister mode.

“Because I need to make sure first. I need to make an appointment and confirm. There is no reason to create chaos in his life without being one hundred percent sure.”

“Why do you think this will create chaos?”

“Seriously?” Tears start to fill my eyes and I’m not sure if they are being triggered by hormones or the idea of being known as the gold digger that got pregnant on purpose.

“I won’t trap him. I know what people will think, it’s how it works.

I’ll be the girl that he’s with because I got knocked up on purpose.

People will run with their own ideas and stories. It will be a mess.”

“First of all, you didn’t trap him or do this on purpose. He was every bit a part of the process as you were. Who cares what everyone else thinks?”

“Me, Liz,” I say, unable to stop the tears. “I care! I don’t want to be known as the girl who hooked the big time ballplayer by poking a hole in a condom.”

“Wait you didn’t do that, right?”

“Oh my God! No! But those are the things people will say. I don’t want to live a life known as a gold digger.”

“Em.” She tries to hug me but I know if she does I will lose my control.

“I just need a little time.”

“I can’t not tell him, Emerson.” I can see the battle within her. She is stuck in the middle and it’s unfair of me to ask this of her. “He is my brother.”

“And I am your best friend,” I remind her, feeling like a complete asshole. “I’m not saying I will never tell him,” I attempt to clarify. “All I am asking is to let me tell him when the time is right. I’ll make an appointment, but please, I want to be the one that tells him.”

When she offers me a nod I allow her to hug me and let the emotions finally take over.