Love, Chloe - Alessandra Torre Page 0,74

saw it, I dropped it, a gasp slipping out, the stick rolling and I grabbed it before I lost it again.

So many memories, so many personal emotions tied to that simple white plastic piece, its window facing away. Just holding it felt like such a violation.

“Just do it already.” Vic banged on the bathroom door, his voice irritated. I said nothing in response, my butt bare on the porcelain seat, the expensive tile of his parents’ bathroom stretching before me. “It’ll be fine, whatever it is. Just do it.”

It didn’t feel fine. It felt like a war of emotions. It felt like I was between two different life paths and whatever was on that stick would, literally, change my life. I had unwrapped the package with trembling fingers. Read the instructions twice. Let out a shaky breath as I had completed the steps.

My test had been negative and I had learned a lesson from it, getting on birth control the very next week.

Now, even though it wasn’t my pregnancy test, I felt that same drop in my stomach. That same jittery moment of hesitation when I didn’t really want to know the results. I looked down, my hand closed around the stick.

It wasn’t my business to know. I should put the stick in her purse; gather up any other items, and leave.

I should forget that I even saw it.

Instead, I opened my palm and looked at it.

66. Out of the ClearBlue Sky

It was a ClearBlue pregnancy test, which made everything easy. No lines, no online instruction manual to hunt down. Just a simple word displayed across the top. PREGNANT. I had expected it, had known somewhere deep inside, what it would say, but I still inhaled sharply, my hand shaky as I gripped the stick harder.

“Time’s up.” The voice came from behind me, and I jumped, turning to see the cop. “You got to get out.”

I hid the stick in my hand. “Just a minute.” His face hardened. “Five seconds,” I promised, my hands skating over the floor, making sure that nothing else had fallen. I stuffed it all, including the test, into her purse and closed the top flap, sliding my hand through the straps and crawling back into the front seat. At the last moment, I had the good sense to grab my own clutch. “Okay, I’m done.”

Nicole was pregnant. No wonder she was so frantic for me to get her purse. If someone else had found the test, if word and photos had leaked out … I thought of Clarke and of his reaction. I thought of Paulo, and my world got a little darker.

Who was the father? Did she know? There really wasn’t any math to do, the timeframe worked for either of them. Somewhere there’d be a joke about the condom queen getting pregnant. I gripped the handle of her Birkin tightly and stepped away from the crash. Spied them loading Nicole into an ambulance and headed that way.

Babies should be celebrated. Loved and treasured. I should be excited for her.

Instead, watching the ambulance’s door slam, I felt sick.

67. Dropping the L Bomb

“Here.” Dante held out my phone and I took it, watching Nicole’s ambulance pull away. “Clarke’s going to meet us at the hospital.”

“Which one?”

“Langone.” He watched me closely. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” I shifted Nicole’s purse to my other hand. Either it weighed a ton, or guilt and secrets added pounds. I was terrible with secrets. Vic used to sniff them out immediately. I’d say hey and he’d start an interrogation. Cammie and Benta could spot my tells too. Apparently, my whole persona changed—voice, face, and actions. The more I tried to act normally, the more awkward I was. Strangers, acquaintances, they didn’t see it. Hopefully, when I returned her pregnancy-test purse, Nicole wouldn’t see it either.

“I’m so sorry, Chloe. The asshole in front of me slammed on the brakes.” He looked over at the wreck with a grimace.

I waved off his apologies. “Don’t apologize. It was an accident.”

He blew out a breath. “Want me to get you home?”

“No. I should get to the hospital.” I glanced down at my phone. Three missed calls and two texts, both from Carter. I opened the first.

Joey called. Said he heard Nicole got in a bad car accident. Please tell me you are okay.

I swore under my breath, the text sent ten minutes earlier. I almost didn’t open his second text, anxious to call him and let him know I was okay. But I did.

I love you.