Jeff stared at the pregnancy stick in disbelief. Garbage was scattered all over the kitchen floor, thanks to a dog looking for table scraps, but the pale pink plastic stick may as well have been covered in flashing lights. “Dena,” he finally managed to croak out. She was down the hall but should still be able to hear him.
“Just a minute.”
It was as if he held a ticking time bomb in his hands. “I need you now.”
Laughter came from where she was. “If I had a dime for every time I heard that one.”
Less than a minute later he heard her footsteps in the hall. “Holy shit. Did Ace get into the garbage again?” she asked as she entered the kitchen and stepped carefully over the trash scattered across the kitchen floor. “Yuck.”
He held up the stick, and she went pale.
“What is this?” he asked.
“I haven’t confirmed anything yet. It could be a false positive.”
Being knocked over the head with a brick would have felt better. “It was positive?”
She nodded.
“You’re pregnant?”
“I haven’t confirmed it yet.”
“But you could be?”
It wasn’t that he didn’t want children. He just didn’t want them now. He wasn’t ready to be a father. A long time ago he’d decided exactly what type of father he would be one day: affectionate, protective, supportive. All the things his own father hadn’t been. And he wanted to be able to provide for his family. His business was doing well, but with the economy the way it was, it’d be a bad time to take on that additional financial responsibility.
“Yes,” she said. “I could be.”
“But you’re on the pill.”
“Nothing’s one hundred percent effective except abstinence.”
He mumbled a curse under his breath.
“Yeah, well, that’s why I didn’t want to tell you until I confirmed it,” she said, and kicked a banana peel for good measure.
He felt awful. He knew he should be more supportive. If he were a better man, he’d know just the right thing to say. Unfortunately, he felt like he’d been kicked in the stomach, and if he opened his mouth again, he was afraid he’d say something he’d regret even more.
“It’s not like I’m jumping up and down with joy either, you know,” she said. “I have a whole list of things I want to accomplish before I become a mom.”
A mom. Dena was going to be a mom. To his child.
She got a new trash bag and started picking up the scattered garbage. “We have to clean this kitchen up. The smell’s making me sick.”
As she knelt down on the floor, his eyes fell on her collar. His collar. The black leather band that labeled her as his. She was his lover and his best friend, but she was also his submissive. When he’d put the collar on her, he’d promised to care for her, to love and support her.
He was failing miserably.
“Don’t.” He stilled her hand before it could pick up a wet coffee filter. “You don’t need to be in here if the smell’s making you sick. Go sit down and let me do this.”
“But I—”
“No buts. We’ll talk later.”
She nodded and left the room, leaving him with his thoughts and spilled garbage. He put the pregnancy test aside and went back to picking up the trash. Something about the mundane task soothed him. By the time the floor was clean, he felt calmer, although too many thoughts and emotions still filled his head. He poured a glass of chocolate milk and went to find Dena.
She was curled up, sleeping, on the couch. Moving slowly so he wouldn’t wake her, he sat down and placed her head on his lap. Ever so softly, he stroked her hair, gently pulling his fingers through the silky blond strands. She stirred, and her eyes blinked open.
“I’m sorry,” he said as she sat up. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“’S okay. If I sleep now, I won’t be able to at bedtime.”
He took the glass of milk from the table he’d put it on and gave it to her. She sighed a happy sigh and took a sip.
“Thank you.”
“I didn’t know if it’d make you sick.”
“No. I’ve been craving milk.”
“In that case, I’ll get you more when you finish that.”
She smiled at him, a bit hesitantly, and drank some more.
He waited until she’d finished half the glass before asking, “How late are you?”
She wiped away the remnants of a milk mustache but missed a tiny bit at the corner of her mouth. He thumbed it away.
“Week and a half,” she said in answer to his question.
That long and she hadn’t said anything? He knew her periods were usually as regular as clockwork. If she was ten days late, he thought there was very little chance it was a false positive. His stomach knotted, but he did his best to push those feeling aside and focus on her. She’d set her glass down, so he took her hand.
“I’m in a bit of shock right now,” he said. “The very last thing I expected to find in the dumped-out garbage was a pregnancy test.”
Her eyes searched his. “Much less a positive one.”
“Yes. So I’m going to need some time to work out this news in my head. But, Dena.” He cupped her chin. “We’re in this together. I’m here for you. For you both.”
She nodded and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. “Thank you.”
“It’s just … Wow.” He still didn’t think he could form the words. “A baby.”
“I know,” she whispered.
The night grew silent around them. He didn’t know how it would all work out, how they would make room in their very content and settled life for a child. He just knew they’d do it somehow.
Dena couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. No matter how often she told herself she was making it up, she never felt at peace with the pregnancy. She was nearly twenty weeks along, and the feeling had only grown worse lately.
Jeff, of course, had been wonderful, once he came around to the whole idea of fatherhood. Now he was fully engaged, scouring the Internet for baby names, making sure she got plenty of rest, and taking time off work to go with her to the doctor’s office. She had thought he’d propose since she was pregnant, but so far he hadn’t brought marriage up. He was probably waiting on her, looking and waiting for some signal she’d be receptive.