Close to You - Kristen Proby Page 0,64

the boy whose diapers I used to change. I taught him how to drive. I took him to see movies his mom wouldn’t let him see. He’s been one of my closest friends his whole life, and now he wants to leave me and make a life of his own.

If this is what it feels like to be a parent, I might just pass on the whole fucking deal because it’s nothing but heartache.

“When did you get smart and stuff?” I sniff loudly.

“I’m a smart guy,” he says with a shrug. “And why are you all . . .” He waves his hands around like he can’t find the words.

“Wonderful? Gorgeous? Your favorite person in the world?”

“Spazzy.”

“Spazzy?”

“Yeah. I expected this from Mom, but I thought you’d be cooler about it.”

“That’s why you looked so nervous to tell me?”

“Okay, I thought you’d be calmer than you were. You don’t usually act like that.”

He’s right. What the hell has been wrong with me lately?

I shrug, and Steven starts talking about where he’ll be completing basic training, and how a friend of his is enlisting with him, and I nod, but his voice fades as I start thinking.

What is wrong with me? First, the wine upset my stomach in Seattle, making for two days of the icks. In fact, Landon’s pancakes were the first thing to sit well on my stomach all week.

I’m exhausted too. Even though I just got out of bed an hour ago, I could already use a nap. Some of that might be emotional exhaustion, but it’s very unusual for me.

“Aunt Cami?”

“What?” I shake my head, pulling myself out of my thoughts.

“I asked you a question.”

“Sorry, can you ask again?”

He frowns. “You’re seriously weird today.”

“I guess I might be about to get a visit from Mother Nature,” I reply with a shrug, and that makes him raise his hands in surrender and back toward the front door.

“And, I’m out. Girl talk like that is disgusting.”

I laugh and shake my head as he leaves. That’s most likely the solution. I do sometimes get sleepy around that time of the month, and Lord knows I can be bitchy.

That’s got to be it.

I take our plates to the sink and rinse them, then stop cold.

Wait.

“Oh God, no.” I run out of the kitchen and up the stairs to the bedroom and fish around in the vanity drawer for my pills.

I finished the pack almost two weeks ago. But I never got my period. Which means I didn’t refill them and start taking the new ones because I didn’t get my period, which reminds me to get the motherfucking pills.

“I can’t be pregnant,” I say to Scoot, who has just wandered into the room behind me to see what in the world I’m doing. “I would have had to get pregnant while I was still taking the pills, and that’s not possible.”

I bite my thumbnail and pace my bedroom.

“Is it?”

Oh God.

“Okay, Cami, calm down. You’re not a teenager for God sake. You’re a grown woman in a loving relationship.”

Don’t tell Landon!

I shake my head. No way. What if it pisses him off? Scares him?

Wait.

He’s also an adult.

“Go talk to Landon,” I tell myself, and swiftly change my clothes, paying no attention in the least to whether or not what I’m wearing matches. I’m wearing a bra and pants, for fuck sake, that’s all that matters.

This is a good plan. Landon will know what to do. Or maybe I should just call one of the girls because if it’s a false alarm, there’s no reason to freak Landon out.

But if the tables were turned and he went to a friend before he came to me, I’d be pissed.

So I should just go. Right now.

I slide my feet into flip-flops, not giving two shits that it’s mid-March in Portland, grab my purse and keys, and drive the short distance to Landon’s house.

I march up to the door and knock before I chicken out and run back home.

After what feels like hours, Landon opens the door.

“I think I fucked up.”

His face softens and he shakes his head while opening the door wider so I can come inside. “No, babe. It’s okay. We’re going to fight now and then, and I know that you love Steven.”

“What?” I look around, like he’s talking to someone else, then realize that we’ve already had a doozy of a fight this morning. “Oh, that! No. I mean, yes, I shouldn’t have said what I did to you, but that’s not why