Chapter 118


    #Chapter 118 – Late


    I spent the rest of the evening in a very quiet panic. Victor could tell, of course, that something was


    wrong, but I avoided all conversation with him.


    If we spoke, even for just one moment, I was afraid I’d blurt it all out. And really, I don’t know anything


    yet.


    I had gotten the boys out of Victor’s house as soon as I could, ncing at the streets and frustrated to


    see that they were still packed with snow. Grateful that the boys were exhausted, I put them to bed


    early and spent the rest of the nightying in my bed, staring at the ceiling, counting the hours until


    daybreak.


    Around three in the morning, I heard the plows run through the streets out front.


    As soon as five AM hits, I throw myself out of bed. Still in my pajamas, I put on my coat and snow boots


    and head out the front door, grabbing my car keys on the way.


    “Fifteen minutes,” I say, a little breathless, to the surprised Betas outside my front door. “The boys are


    still asleep!”


    They nod, a little baffled, but let me go without troubling me. As I climb into my car, I’m passively


    grateful to see that someone has dug it out and cleared it off. I send a silent prayer of thanks to the


    Betas and remind myself to do something nice for them very soon.


    The ride to the pharmacy passes in a rush. I don’t let myself think about it and instead force my rushing


    mind onto other topics, as I did all night long. I make myself think about the boys’ schooling, what we’ll


    have for dinner tonight, where I’d like to go on vacation this summer, which celebrities I would date if


    stranded on a desert ind.


    Anything, anything at all, except what will happen…if…


    The pharmacist is surprised to see me pounding on the door fifteen minutes before they open. Seeing


    my worry, she lets me in and sells me the pregnancy test without word, just a small understanding look.


    I throw the bag into the passenger seat of my car and almost fly home.


    In my bathroom, my hands shake as I unbox the test. I read briefly through the instructions – of course,


    I remember the essentials, but I want to do it right.


    After I take it, I ce the test on my sink and turn my back to it, folding my legs underneath myself and


    sinking down onto my bathmat. I put my head in my hands and slowly, in measured breaths, I count to


    one hundred and twenty.


    Then, I reach up behind me and grab the test.


    Two faint lines –


    A sob breaks from me and I cover my mouth with my hand, shocked. How could this –


    We had s*x once –


    But that’s exactly what happened before –


    I stare at the test, my mind racing, but then suddenly realize…


    This text is property of N?/velD/rama.Org.


    The lines are….they’re not quite right.


    I look closer, realizing that the line marked “test” – the one that’s supposed to tell me if I’m pregnant – is


    barely there, hardly a scratch on the surface –


    And the “control” line – the one that tells you if the test is working – is broken, fading to nothing at one


    end. What?


    I grab the instructions, unfolding the paper and searching through it. There’s a series of images in the


    “how to red your results” section and one of them – yes, one of them looks just like this.


    I eagerly read the print underneath it:


    If your test looks like this, it is inclusive. Please contact your pharmacy or our parentpany for a


    recement test.


    I freeze for a moment – I can’t believe it –


    And then I can’t help the little scream of rage that bursts from me as I hurl the test across the room and


    tear the paper in half.


    Inconclusive!?


    I bury my head in my hands again, unable to believe my luck –


    God damnit, why didn’t I buy two – I’m such an i***t –


    I can’t help the thoughts, then, thate rushing into my mind. The thoughts I held back all night, all


    morning on the drive to the pharmacy, the drive home, as I ran up the stairs to my bathroom.


    God damnit. What am I going to do if I’m pregnant with Victor’s child, again?


    Two options run through my head. The first is to run.


    I can see myself doing it. Packing up the boys in the night, telling them it’s an adventure or a vacation.


    We wouldn’t have to take much – there’s nothing that I own, really, that can’t be reced. We can get


    in the car and just go.


    We could start over. I can change my name again, change theirs. Get work as a therapist in some


    smallmunity, or any job, really. Then I could…I could have this child and never tell them anything


    about it. Never tell them who their father is, give this child – and the boys – what I always wanted,


    which is the option to choose their own life, rather than getting wrapped up in this Alpha world.


    When did I give up on that dream for my boys, anyway?


    Victor is such a force of nature. I agreed to let him have a role in Alvin and Ian’s lives and somehow,


    I’m here, throwing him parties, acting as his Luna so he can keep his pack? How did I get so wrapped


    up in this?


    It’s time to go, I think. To break free of it – to get back to what matters to me.


    But then I think, of course, of Alvin and Ian. That even if I never told the baby who their father is, the


    boys would know. And Alvin and Ian love their father, would want toe back to him, would want this


    life. The one we’ve promised them.


    I sigh, realizing that maybe it’s not possible to run. That the boys won’t want it. That perhaps…I don’t


    want it.


    I think, then, on the other possibility. That I stay.


    Victor, I know, would be thrilled. He’s always wanted arge family. I can imagine the shock on his face


    as I told him, the way he would freeze and then wrap me up in his arms, growling in my ear how happy


    he was, how much…


    Well. How much he loved me.


    Tears spring to my eyes at this idea. It could be so different than my first pregnancy, when I was alone


    with my thoughts and worries about my future, my children’s future. I would have everything I didn’t


    havest time – warmth, security, my child’s father with me every step of the way.


    I ce my hand on my stomach, looking down, thinking quietly to myself that that sounds kind of…well.


    Nice. Wonderful, in fact.


    I stare down at my hand, my stomach, the ce where, right now, something new could be taking


    shape.


    “Are you in there, baby?” I whisper quietly, wondering.


    And I realize, suddenly, that I hope it is. I hope there’s a little life taking root within me. That I would


    wee this child, that I wouldn’t run, that I would stay right here.


    I’m floored, suddenly, by the realization. I tilt my head back, resting it against the cab below the sink


    as I slowly rub my stomach.


    Iugh a little as tears slip down my cheeks, shaking my head at the irony after so many years of hiding


    my children from him, of such struggle and drama and strife.


    I realize the truth of it all. That I want to do it all again. I want more.


    God damnit, I think to myself, I hope I am pregnant.