Читать книгу What Happens in Vegas… - Kimberly Lang - Страница 10

EVIE PACED WHILE THE TIMER counted down the last few seconds. The cool blues and greens of her apartment decor were supposed to create a soothing and relaxing environment. They were failing miserably.

When the timer dinged, she jumped. “Please, please, please,” she mumbled as she walked through to her bathroom—also done in soothing colors and also falling down on the job.

She looked carefully at the array of tests lined up on the vanity. Six different brands, purchased at four different stores in the next county this morning after she’d called in sick to the office.

Every last one of the damn things said “positive.”

Oh, she really felt sick now. She sat on the edge of the tub while the horrid reality settled on her shoulders.

Last night, she’d turned the calendar over to June and realized she hadn’t had a period in May. That thought lead her to her day planner, where she realized she last had her period the week before she went to Las Vegas.

Sleep was impossible after that.

But she’d kept calm—sort of—telling herself there was no need to panic until she had a reason to. She looked at the line of tests. Oh, she had reason to panic now. Good reason.

She was pregnant.

She was going to be a mother, and, dear God, she wasn’t ready to be someone’s mother. She wanted children—several, in fact—but motherhood had always seemed like a distant prospect. Motherhood would come after she’d built some kind of career for herself, when she could have a house in the suburbs and do the whole nuclear-family thing with a white picket fence and a dog. And, most importantly, a husband.