Page 5

THREE

MILLIE

SIX WEEKS LATER

“Yes, Mom, I’m at the doctor now.”

“Tell her you think it was the shrimp from the Fourth of July.”

“I never had the shrimp.”

“You’ve been sick for two weeks. It’s not going to be anything else.”

Another wave of nausea passed over me. I didn’t want to talk about shrimp. I didn’t want to think about shrimp.

“Do you want me to come up to the city this afternoon?”

“No, Mom, I’m fine. I just have a bug. I have to go. They’re calling me.”

“Okay, bye, sweetie. Love you, call me straight after and let me know what she says.”

I grabbed my stomach and sat back in the chair, waiting for the churning in my belly to subside. I hadn’t been called, but I couldn’t stay on the phone any longer talking to my mom about the Fourth of July party, which may or may not be the cause of my current upset stomach.

But nearly every morning since then, I’d woken up feeling like I was about to vomit.

Radley had floated the possibility that the thought of Doug moving in was making me sick, and I seriously considered it for a second.

However, she’d glossed over the fact that I didn’t get sick when I first found out about them, so in all likelihood, the fault didn’t lie with Doug and my mom.

And the only thing nausea-inducing about them was how happy they were.

I still hadn’t quite come around to the idea that the remainder of my dad’s stuff that I hadn’t brought up to New York had been relegated to some boxes in the garage, but I also wanted my mom to enjoy her life.

“Millie?” I glanced up to find the receptionist looking at me. “Doctor Scott is ready for you.”

“Thanks,” I replied and headed down the carpeted hallway to where Doctor Scott’s office was.

Doctor Scott had only been my physician a year, since I’d moved to New York to study, and during that period, I’d only seen her a couple of times.

She kind of reminded me of Julia Roberts, with her big smile and curly auburn hair, someone who put you at ease while they were telling you to eat more vegetables or handing you a pot to pee into.

She looked up from her computer as I entered. “Hey, Millie, one second, please take a seat.”

Her office was on the third floor of a large brownstone next to a modern apartment block.

It was still early enough in the morning that people were getting ready to start their day; across the way, a lady was walking around with a towel on her head, while another looked like they were trying to break a record on an exercise bike.

“Okay, Millie, what’s the issue?”

My eyes flicked from the window to Doctor Scott. “It’s probably nothing, but I’ve been feeling a bit sick for a couple of weeks. Since July fourth. My mom thinks it’s food poisoning.”

Doctor Scott’s brows raised. “From two weeks ago? That’s rare. Have you been sick?”

I nodded.

“And you were sick July fourth?”

“The next day, I thought maybe it was a hangover.”

“Did you drink a lot?”

“Not really. Just some coolers, and beers.” I shook my head, remembering that I hadn’t felt like drinking. All I’d wanted to do was lay around the pool.

“How much have you been sick since?”

“Most days, but it comes in waves and then I feel better.”

She was typing up notes as I answered her questions, but whatever I’d just said had her pausing for a fraction of a second.

“Does anything hurt? Any tenderness?”

I shook my head again. “No, nothing out of the ordinary. I’m about to get my period, so I feel a bit gross, and all the usual stuff that comes with it.” I glanced down at my chest, where my tee was definitely stretched tighter than usual.

“When did you last have your period? ”

I shrugged, because I couldn’t actually remember. It wasn’t that long ago, but I knew it had been since school broke for the summer because Radley and I had been at a baseball game when it happened. And we hadn’t been to many games while our end-of-year exams were happening. “Last month, I guess.”

“And the last time you had sex?”

Oh god . I knew exactly how long it had been.

Tanner flashed into my head. The feel of him inside me, the smell of him, the sensation of his skin slicking against mine.

It was exactly what had been happening since he’d walked out of my dorm room.

I’d wake up from dreams about him—all too real dreams—of his blue eyes boring into mine, my hands gripped in his fist, his lips teasing at mine.

Six weeks, one day, fourteen hours, and twenty-seven minutes. Give or take.

I prayed my cheeks weren’t burning red. “Maybe a couple of months ago. Six weeks tops.”

“Okay.” She finished typing up her notes and opened her drawer. “I’m going to get you to hop onto the bed, but first go and pee in this.”

I frowned. What did I need to pee into a cup for if I had food poisoning? But I took it and did it anyway, then handed it back to her. Thanks to the carton of orange juice I’d had on the way here, it wasn’t too much of a hardship.

“Okay, hop up onto the bed and lie down,” she ordered. “I’m going to feel your belly for tenderness, so let me know if anything hurts.”

I stared up at the spotlights on the ceiling as she began pressing down on my stomach. If I hadn’t just peed, I would definitely need to pee now. I’d need to pee again before I left.

“Is that tender?” Doctor Scott asked when I pulled a face as her hands hovered over my lower abdomen.

“Not really, the pressure just felt a little more intense there than everywhere else.”

She nodded but didn’t say anything else, instead, she turned to the countertop where she’d placed my jar of pee and a pregnancy test I hadn’t noticed before. A momentary panic crashed through me, but then she tossed it into the trash and poured the pee down the sink.

“Come and sit down again,” she said as she removed her gloves and washed her hands. “When did you say you started feeling sick?”

“Couple of weeks ago,” I replied. “My mom thinks it was bad shrimp.”

“It’s not the shrimp.” I knew it. But then Doctor Scott angled her chair to look directly at me, and this small, tiny, insignificant movement was enough to bring me out in a cold sweat. “You’re pregnant.”

Immediately, my eardrums were pierced with a deafening ringing, followed by a loud buzzing. “What?”

“You’re pregnant.”

“No. I have food poisoning ,” I assured her. “I can’t be pregnant, I take birth control.”

She was wrong. I knew she was wrong. Maybe there’d been two jars of pee and she’d tested someone else’s. Or the pregnancy test had been defective. Yes, that was more likely. I’d do another; after all that prodding I needed to pee again anyway.

Doctor Scott glanced back at the computer screen. “ The antibiotics I prescribed for the chest infection you contracted—that was the end of your school year in May, yes? Did you use extra protection when you were having intercourse during that time?”

The ringing got louder. My entire face burned hot. The room began spinning.

Tanner and I hadn’t used extra protection. I told him we didn’t need it. I’d forgotten about the antibiotics, I’d stopped taking them a couple of weeks earlier.

I’d told him we didn’t need protection.

“I can’t be pregnant,” I whispered, it was the only volume I could manage. “Please check again.” I held my hand out. “Give me another pot to pee in. Please, Doctor Scott.”

She sighed but opened her drawer and handed me a pot. Once again I trundled into the bathroom next door, squatted over the toilet seat, and squeezed all the pee I could get out while trying to get none on me. Doctor Scott was waiting for me by the door, three pregnancy tests in her hand.

“Here you are.”

I didn’t watch as she dipped the ends of each test in the pee. I wanted to hide behind my hands and peek through my fingers. The buzzing in my ears moved over my skin, interfering with my heartbeat until I was convinced I was about to have a heart attack.

The tests didn’t even need the full two minutes. All three came back the same.

PREGNANT 5–6 WEEKS SINCE CONCEPTION .

I stared down in disbelief. Except I had to believe it. It was there in black and white on a tiny plastic stick, and if I still didn’t want to believe it my body decided that was the time to be sick again. I hurled in the trash can.

“Oh no. No. No.”

Doctor Scott passed me a wet paper towel to wipe my mouth. “I take it this wasn’t planned.”

“No.” My eyes shot to hers, with a healthy amount of pleading for her to tell me this was all a big joke. Ha ha. Got you. Except she didn’t. Instead, she gently guided me back to the chair.

“I’ll take a blood test while you’re here, for double confirmation, but we can also talk about your options.”

“Options?”

“Termination.”

Another wave of nausea hit me. I’d woken up this morning excited for the day, you know, beyond all the being sick.

That’s why I’d booked an early appointment to come here, so I could get it over with, get some antinausea meds and go meet Radley at the gym.

Then we were going for lunch to this cute Mexican place we’d found.

Making decisions about abortion was not on my agenda.

“You don’t need to decide today,” Doctor Scott assured me. “Is the father someone in your life?”

“Not through choice,” I mumbled, or maybe I never said it at all, because the second realization hit. I had to tell Tanner.

I hadn’t spoken to him since the day I’d kicked him out of my dorm room.

The day I’d behaved so badly, when he’d been nothing but kind.

Tanner, who’d messaged me good morning and good night every day for months, had gone silent.

I hadn’t heard from him since he’d slammed the door, and it was all my fault.

And now I had to tell him I was pregnant.

“Is this a conversation you can have with the father?”

I shrugged and looked out of the window. The guy was still going full throttle on his bike.

“What about your mom, or your friends?”

I focused back on the doctor, realizing I’d not heard a word she’d said. “Sorry, can you repeat that?”