Not So Nice Guy(67)

After dessert, they all want to move into the living room and play board games, but Sam and I have had our fill of family bonding.

We bolt the first opportunity we can get.

“Thanks for dinner, Mom, Dad! Talk soon! Mr. and Mrs. Fletcher, we’ll see you in the morning for breakfast before you get on the road!” Sam shouts, quickly dashing around the room to dole out hugs.

After we step outside, she reaches for my hand and tugs me toward my car as fast as her short legs will take us.

“Hurry, hurry! My mom is probably thinking of some way to drag us back inside as we speak.”

We hop in and buckle up quick. We’re out of their neighborhood in no time.

“Phew. That went well. I think our moms are in love.”

I nod. “Yeah, it went better than I thought it would.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if your mom invites my parents to breakfast tomorrow.”

“Yeah, we should probably prepare ourselves now.”

“Hey, can you stop at that pharmacy up there?” she asks. “I need to run in and pick up a few things.”

I get into the right lane so I can turn into the parking lot.

She jostles her legs in the passenger seat like she’s hopped up on something. “Don’t you want to know what I need?”

“Um, not real—”

“A pregnancy test.”

I nearly careen off the road.

I end up taking up 2 ? parking spots near the back of the lot. Justin Timberlake is singing on the radio and Sam and I sit in the car while my brain catches up.

She jostles my arm. “Ian, you there?”

She waves her hand in front of my face, and reality snaps back into place like a rubber band. I turn to her, dopey smile and all.

“What the hell are we waiting for?!”

She beams and we simultaneously turn to yank on our door handles.

Inside the pharmacy, Sam drags her arm across the shelf in a dramatic flourish. Our small basket is filled to the brim. We buy one of each brand, which is overkill, but there’s no point in trying to talk her out of it.

“Because the people in the movies do it! Maybe they’re onto something!”

When we check out, the clerk doesn’t say a word, though she must sense the nervous energy pluming off of Sam because she gives her a small smile as she loads the pregnancy tests into two bags.

This is what we want. We’ve talked about it. I’ll be 32 in a month. Sam turned 28 a few weeks back. We have a lot of savings built up. I’ve already looked at the best options for college funds. We’re prepared, but it still feels like we’re two teenagers up to no good.

“Hurry, hurry,” Sam says as we finish the drive home. “I’ve been holding it since before dinner because I want to have enough urine for all these tests.”

“In my professional chemist opinion, you’ll need at least a gallon of urine.”

“You’re joking, but I actually have it!”

The bags are hefty and loaded down. When I pull into the driveway, Sam hops out of the car and makes a dash for the door. She runs straight for the master bathroom and I follow.

“Should we read the instructions?” I ask, frowning as Sam starts tearing open boxes like a hungry bear who’s just stumbled upon a picnic in the woods. “Make sure you’re peeing on the right parts?”

“I know the right parts, Ian. Movie people, remember?”

Still, I insist. Each test demands slightly different preparations. Some demand you pee directly on the applicator. Some want you to dip the end of the test stick in a small cup of urine. Some provide a line. Some spell out POS or NEG. Sam hops back and forth on her feet, clutching her crotch as if she’s trying to physically hold the pee inside herself.

“Hurry!”

“Okay, here. This one first.”

She pees on it and I pass her another. Then another. We have twelve lined up before she’s completely emptied her bladder.

“Damn,” I say, hands on hips, assessing our lineup.

She washes her hands with a smug smile. “What do you think, science man? Is that enough data for you?”

I smile and nod before stepping back and sliding down to the ground. The excitement of the last half-hour is starting to take its toll.

Sam stays standing, hands on her hips as she studies the tests. “How long do we have to wait?”

“The first one will be ready in five minutes.”

Saying it aloud makes my stomach drop. She turns back to me and I see she’s shaking now, her eyes filling up with tears. “What if it’s positive?”

I tilt my head and assess her. “We’ll be excited.”

“And if it’s negative?”

“We’ll probably be relieved, but we’ll also keep trying.”

“Maybe your mom is a psychic. You haven’t told her we’ve been trying, have you?”

“No. That was all her.”

“She said I was glowing.”

I smile. “You are.”

“How long has it been?”

I glance down at the timer on my phone. “Thirty seconds.”

“Oh god. I feel sick.”

“Good sick or bad sick?”

“I don’t know. I want this, but all of sudden I feel like we’re in over our heads. It’s the same feeling I had when you asked me to marry you.”