with a pounding hangover. I plodded into the bathroom and ran myself a glass of water to take a painkiller. My birth control pills were right there, too. I might as well take the two pills together. I popped the pill out of its pill pack. As I tossed the two pills into my mouth, I thought I heard something drop, something small. I swallowed my glass of water and looked around. I didn't see anything. My head was too thick to think.
I went back to bed to sleep the rest of the hangover off. Jus was up, talking on the phone.
He hung up and gave me a sheepish look. "That was Riggins. We have an emergency on our hands. I have to fly out ASAP. I'm meeting him at the airport."
"On the Fourth of July weekend?" I didn't want him to go.
"Fourth of July doesn't mean shit in the rest of the world." He came over and took me in his arms. "I'm sorry. It's not my first choice."
I touched his arm. "How long will you be gone?"
He sighed. "Weeks, at least. I was supposed to leave again on Wednesday for a week-and-a-half trip. Now there's no point in coming home in between."
"No," I said. But I didn't mean it. I had no right to complain. I was only his wife-for-hire.
"Look on the bright side," he said. "The less we're together, the less chance we have of screwing up and giving ourselves away." He sounded almost rueful.
Oh, boy. He had no idea how much I could screw up while he was gone. "The gossip rags will say you've tired of me already," I said with a tease in my voice.
He should have laughed. Instead his expression became serious. "They would be wrong."
He rushed off without noticing, or at least commenting on, the changes I was making to the penthouse. And left me with a warning: "Keep my dog out of your purse."
Chapter Seven
K ayla
I was late. Late. Late. Late. Late.
Say a word often enough and it starts to sound ridiculous. Even the idea of being late was absurd. One of those inconveniences of the body.
But it happened from time to time. Even though I was on the pill. It was a wakeup call. Life's way of warning me to be more careful. In college, I'd had two pregnancy scares. Who hadn't had at least one? Eric was a douche about them both times, yelling at me to be more careful. As if birth control was my sole responsibility. I was taking the pill. What more did he want? He was the one who didn't like condoms.
I wasn't particularly happy about being late. But I wasn't worried. Or scared. I did wonder, though: if Jus had been around, would I have told him like I did Eric? Eric and I had at least been a real couple. Which meant we dealt with stuff together, even if we fought about it.
It was probably just stress. Stress did crazy things to my body. I'd been so busy, busy, busy while Jus was gone. Going, going, going, wrapped up in my Justin's-away lifestyle while July rapidly slid toward August and our upcoming honeymoon. Trying not to think about missing him. Or how deep I was getting in our deception. Our how much I was in love with his dog and enjoyed living in his penthouse and spending his money. And how much I thought I was actually falling in love with him. And how I'd even resorted to buying the Sport Fresh scent of deodorant because it smelled guy-like and reminded me of Jus. Wearing the Sport Fresh scent was a cheap way for the man-less girl to pretend she had a guy around. I was pathetic.
The remedy for a late period was simple—take a pregnancy test and put my mind at ease. Before Jus got home. Then destroy the evidence.
He'd been gone for weeks, always promising to come back soon. He had to make good on it sometime.
If things had felt complicated in college, when I slunk down the row at the drugstore and bought a pregnancy test on the sly, things were way more complicated now. If the media got hold of me buying a pregnancy test, it would be all over the news. And I couldn't very well ask any of my friends to buy me one, either. This was top-secret business. So I ordered my usual brand online, from my old
I went back to bed to sleep the rest of the hangover off. Jus was up, talking on the phone.
He hung up and gave me a sheepish look. "That was Riggins. We have an emergency on our hands. I have to fly out ASAP. I'm meeting him at the airport."
"On the Fourth of July weekend?" I didn't want him to go.
"Fourth of July doesn't mean shit in the rest of the world." He came over and took me in his arms. "I'm sorry. It's not my first choice."
I touched his arm. "How long will you be gone?"
He sighed. "Weeks, at least. I was supposed to leave again on Wednesday for a week-and-a-half trip. Now there's no point in coming home in between."
"No," I said. But I didn't mean it. I had no right to complain. I was only his wife-for-hire.
"Look on the bright side," he said. "The less we're together, the less chance we have of screwing up and giving ourselves away." He sounded almost rueful.
Oh, boy. He had no idea how much I could screw up while he was gone. "The gossip rags will say you've tired of me already," I said with a tease in my voice.
He should have laughed. Instead his expression became serious. "They would be wrong."
He rushed off without noticing, or at least commenting on, the changes I was making to the penthouse. And left me with a warning: "Keep my dog out of your purse."
Chapter Seven
K ayla
I was late. Late. Late. Late. Late.
Say a word often enough and it starts to sound ridiculous. Even the idea of being late was absurd. One of those inconveniences of the body.
But it happened from time to time. Even though I was on the pill. It was a wakeup call. Life's way of warning me to be more careful. In college, I'd had two pregnancy scares. Who hadn't had at least one? Eric was a douche about them both times, yelling at me to be more careful. As if birth control was my sole responsibility. I was taking the pill. What more did he want? He was the one who didn't like condoms.
I wasn't particularly happy about being late. But I wasn't worried. Or scared. I did wonder, though: if Jus had been around, would I have told him like I did Eric? Eric and I had at least been a real couple. Which meant we dealt with stuff together, even if we fought about it.
It was probably just stress. Stress did crazy things to my body. I'd been so busy, busy, busy while Jus was gone. Going, going, going, wrapped up in my Justin's-away lifestyle while July rapidly slid toward August and our upcoming honeymoon. Trying not to think about missing him. Or how deep I was getting in our deception. Our how much I was in love with his dog and enjoyed living in his penthouse and spending his money. And how much I thought I was actually falling in love with him. And how I'd even resorted to buying the Sport Fresh scent of deodorant because it smelled guy-like and reminded me of Jus. Wearing the Sport Fresh scent was a cheap way for the man-less girl to pretend she had a guy around. I was pathetic.
The remedy for a late period was simple—take a pregnancy test and put my mind at ease. Before Jus got home. Then destroy the evidence.
He'd been gone for weeks, always promising to come back soon. He had to make good on it sometime.
If things had felt complicated in college, when I slunk down the row at the drugstore and bought a pregnancy test on the sly, things were way more complicated now. If the media got hold of me buying a pregnancy test, it would be all over the news. And I couldn't very well ask any of my friends to buy me one, either. This was top-secret business. So I ordered my usual brand online, from my old
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