Match Me (6 page)

“But the shoe…and me talking to Chase…” My voice trailed off.

“No one knows about that,” he said. “No one knows it was yours. No one knows about the conversation. And no one will.”

“I’m sure he told Angela…”

Paul shook his head. “He didn’t.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I made him promise not to.”

FOURTEEN

“I’m not following,” Jill said as she shoveled a handful of popcorn in her mouth.

I’d texted her as soon as I’d gotten in my car and told her to meet me at my place. For once, she hadn’t argued.

“Paul. He made Chase promise not to tell.”

“Right, right. Totally get that.” She tucked her feet under her on the couch. “Just don’t see why that’s such a big deal.”

I rolled my eyes. “Seriously? Think about it. Why would he make Chase promise something like that? Why would he care?”

“Because he’s a nice human?”

I glared at her.

“You’re trying to see something that isn’t there,” she said. “Paul’s a smart guy. He knew you’d be screwed if word got out about the wedding crashing. He asked Chase to keep it quiet. Plain and simple.”

“But why?” That was the question I couldn’t figure out. Why was he motivated to do it, to be a nice human, as Jill put it? Especially toward me?

“You wouldn’t do the same thing?” Jill tucked her hair behind her ears. “Try to protect someone from a stupid decision they made? Nothing illegal, nothing that hurt anyone, just something really, really dumb?”

“Gee, thanks.”

“I’m serious. It was stupid. And no one knows that better than you.”

She was right.

“You would,” she said. “You’d keep it quiet. Just like Paul is. Because you’re a good human. Angela would not because she is a succubus.”

I decided it was time to change the subject. “Pretty sure Roberto doesn’t think I’m a good human.” I filled her in on the disastrous second date.

“Oh my God.” She wiped tears of laughter from her eyes as I finished. “How do these things happen to you?”

“I don’t know,” I wailed.

“It’s probably the ’Universe’ getting back at you,” she said, laughing.

“You mean karma?”

“Whatever. The Universe. Karma. Whatever mumbo jumbo you wanna blame it on.”

“Maybe.” I picked at the popcorn. I’d already eaten half the bowl and was stuffed. “So do you think he’s right?”

“Roberto?”

“No, silly. Paul.”

“Right about what?”

“That people don’t think I’m an idiot. That people will forget. That I’ll be able to go out in public soon without feeling like everyone is pointing at me. Laughing at me.”

“Who’s talked to you about it?” she asked. “Who’s said anything at all except Jenna and Angela?”

I thought for a minute. “No one.”

Jill smiled. “Then I’d say he’s right.” She stood up then and grabbed the empty popcorn bowl before heading into the bathroom.

“Alright, I’m gonna call it a night,” she said. “Domenico and I are going sailing tomorrow.”

“Of course you are.”

“Hoping my stupid period will be done by then. I hate swimming when Aunt Flo visits.”

I nodded. And then I froze.

Aunt Flo was supposed to have visited me. Almost a week ago. And she’d never shown up.

FIFTEEN

Jill left and I crumpled to the floor. Literally, like a sack of potatoes. Mentally, I tried to do the math. My period was like clockwork. 28 days, never fail.

Maybe I’d screwed up. Math had never been my strong suit. I thought about last month, tried to remember the day I started, came up with what I thought was right. And added 28 days.

I should have started Monday night. Tuesday morning at the latest. And it was Saturday.

I was five days late.

The nausea rose up and I panicked. Oh my God. I pulled at my waistband. Tight. The fainting? The not wanting to eat? The chocolate cravings? Were those pregnancy symptoms?

I grabbed my computer and opened my browser. Googling “pregnancy symptoms” brought up ten million hits. And every single one of them listed my symptoms.

Panic, panic, panic. My heart revved like a motorcycle. What the hell was I going to do?

My phone buzzed. Of all the people who could possibly call me at that moment, it was the one person I couldn’t talk to.

My mother.

I let the call roll over to voice mail. It buzzed again. She was calling back.

A new panic set in. What was wrong with my parents?

I answered.

“Bonnie!”

“Mom. What’s wrong?”

The phone crackled. “That’s why I’m calling.”

“What?” I gripped the phone tighter. Did she contract the ebola virus? Was Vern mauled by a hippo? Those things happened on African safaris. “What’s wrong? What’s happened?”

“You tell me,” she said, her voice high-pitched through the static. “You’re the one who crashed a wedding.”

How had she found out? She was halfway across the globe in some remote African country. She’d told me which one but world geography wasn’t my strong suit, either.

Silence.

“Bonnie?” She sounded like she was in a tunnel. If there were tunnels on safari. “Are you there?”

“I’m here.”

“Talk to me.”

What was I supposed to say? That not only had I crashed my ex’s wedding, but now it looked like I was pregnant, too?

“I didn’t crash it,” I said. “I just sorta showed up. Um, uninvited.”

“I think that’s called crashing, dear.” Her sigh traveled the receiver loud and clear. “Should we come home? Call off the trip? Are you…are you
depressed
?”

My mother read Readers Digest religiously. Took every article to heart, knew every sob story there was. Three years ago, an entire issue had been dedicated to depression. She’d memorized every sign, every symptom, and was convinced they had manifested in me.

No. I was on the verge of an anxiety-induced mental breakdown but I was not depressed.

“No, Mom,” I told her. “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” She sounded doubtful. “We’re heading into Etosha. But we can cancel. Come home early.”

“Etosha? Is that one of those new countries in Africa?” I asked.

“It’s a park. In Namibia.”

“Is Namibia a new country?”

“It’s been an independent country since 1990, dear.”

“Oh.”

“Talk to me.” She paused. “Or call our health insurance company. There are some very good counselors available…”

“I’m fine, Mom.” I didn’t need counselors. I needed a miracle. I reached for the pillow next to me on the couch and held it over the phone. “I think our connection is–”

I pressed the End Call button and hung up.

SIXTEEN

I was in an unfamiliar aisle in the drugstore. And my knees were knocking together.

Three full rows of pregnancy tests lined the shelves.

It should have been an easy decision. I didn’t need one that guaranteed accurate results two days before your period. Mine was already five days late. Six, maybe. Any one of them would do.

But it wasn’t easy. Because I couldn’t believe that I’d been so incredibly stupid as to need to be in the aisle of the drugstore, contemplating pregnancy tests.

I hadn’t told anyone. After hanging up with my mom, I toyed with calling Jill. Having her come back over. She was the only one I would tell. But, considering how she’d reacted to the wedding fiasco, I wasn’t sure I’d see the next day if I’d decided to confide in her.

No, I knew what I needed to do. Test. To be sure.

But I didn’t want to. So I’d stayed glued to the couch for the rest of the night, trying to lose myself in a Downtown Abbey marathon. Well, not exactly glued. Because every fifteen minutes, I’d run to the bathroom and wipe, hoping I’d find evidence that would keep me from needing to buy a pregnancy test. But the paper stayed white.

So it was Sunday morning and I stood there in the drug store and stared at the slim boxes on the shelves, wondering when I’d work up the nerve to pick one up off the shelf and march it to the counter.

I’d already scoped out who was working when I came through the door, breathed a sigh of relief that there was no one familiar behind the registers.

Now all I had to do was pick one. Force my hand to unclench, will my arm to lift and select a box.

It was harder than I thought it was going to be.

“Just do eeny-meeny-miny-mo,” I whispered a little pep talk to myself. “You can do it.”

And I did. I grabbed the winner–a blue AccuTest box–and hurried to the check out. Belatedly, I realized going to the grocery store would have been a better choice. At least there was a self check-out lane there.

And I probably wouldn’t have run, literally, into Mrs. Pickartz, my mother’s best friend.

I slammed into her as I rounded the corner of the aisle. Two packages of hair dye and a container of Metamucil tumbled to the floor.

“Oh my gosh,” I exclaimed. “I’m so sorry.”

I had already stooped to help pick her things up when I realized I only had one hand free. Because the other hand was holding the pregnancy test. I stuffed the test in my shorts pocket and grabbed the hair dye.

“Bonnie.” Surprise mixed with irritation in her voice.

I handed her things back to her. “Sorry about that.”

Mrs. Pickartz pursed her coral-colored lips. “I’ll bet you’re sorry about a lot of things these days.”

I felt the color drain from my face. She’d seen the test.

“Turning up at Chase’s wedding like that.” She clucked her tongue and narrowed her eyes.

I breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh. Yes.”

“I was distraught when Chase’s mother told me what happened.” I’d forgotten they were friends. “Of course, I thought your mother should know…”

“You called her?” I asked. “In Nambabwe?”

“Namibia, dear.”

I waved my hand. “Whatever. You were the one who told her?”

“She’s one of my best friends,” she said. “And I know how she worries about you and your…issues.”

“Um…” I didn’t know what to say.

“Anyway.” Mrs. Pickartz patted her hair. The roots were a brownish-silver and I could see why she needed the hair dye. “You take care of yourself. And stop getting into trouble.”

Too late for that. I mumbled a goodbye, backed away and headed toward the exit.

I didn’t get very far. A balding man in a blue button-down shirt and black slacks blocked my path to the exit.

I sidestepped him. He moved with me.

“What?” I snapped.

He flashed a badge. “I’d like to talk to you about the pharmaceutical item you have in your pocket.”

My face colored. “Oh! Oh, I forgot to pay for it.” How had I forgotten about the stupid test?

“Why don’t we head back to the register area so you can pay for it?”

“Oh,” I stammered. “Um, yeah. Sure.”

The security guard placed his hand on my elbow and guided me back into the store. I slowed as we reached the cashier but he tightened his grip on my arm and steered me past.

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll need to come with me, miss.”

“Excuse me?”

“For questioning. For suspected shoplifting.”

I wrenched my elbow free. “I wasn’t stealing! I, I bumped into someone. She dropped her stuff and I helped her pick it up! I just put it in my pocket so I could help. And you just told me I could pay for it!”

“That’s because I didn’t want you to give me any trouble out front. We have you on surveillance video. Concealing,” he said, frowning. “Unfortunately, we had to let your accomplice walk.”

“My
what
?”

“Your accomplice.”

Sixty-year-old Mrs. Pickartz was my accomplice for shoplifting? A pregnancy test?

“Look, there’s been a horrible mistake,” I told him.

Baldie nodded. “Stealing is never the right thing to do.”

My mouth hung open. I was speechless. Because at that moment, I wasn’t sure my life could get any worse.

Very possibly pregnant. Accused of shoplifting. I’d never been in trouble with the law and I wondered what kind of sentence shoplifting carried. Would I be like that mom on
I’m Pregnant and In Prison
? Horrific images of visiting my newborn in the prison nursery filled my mind.

If my mom thought the wedding was a fiasco, she was going to implode when she heard this.

“There you are,” a voice said from behind me.

Baldie and I both turned around. Paul stood a few steps away, grinning.

“You said you had a surprise for me.”

I stared at him. “What?”

He shook his head. “The reason we’re here? The surprise.”

When I didn’t say anything, he continued. “I think I already know it,” he said, his grin widening. “But we can test, right? Just to be sure?”

“What?”

He enveloped me in a hug and whispered in my ear, “Just go with it.”

Baldie watched us, suspicion etched into his expression.

Paul looped his arm around my shoulder and focused his attention back on the security guard.

“She was trying to keep it a secret. The pregnancy. Knowing her, she probably wanted to surprise me with the news. Right, sweetheart?”

Numbly, I nodded. “Uh, yeah. Right.”

Paul rolled his eyes at Baldie. “She’s had symptoms for days. Weeks. Didn’t know incoherence was going to be one of them.”

Baldie shifted his feet and crossed his arms. “So you’re telling me…”

Paul cut him off. “She told me she just needed to run in. When it took longer than I thought, I came in. Saw her run smack into Mrs. Pickartz.” He turned to me. “Clumsiness must be a symptom, too. Anyway, she saw me when she was on the ground. Is that why you hid the test? Put it in your pocket?”

I nodded again.

“See?” Paul said to the guard. “Just an honest mistake. We can pay for it right now. In fact, we should probably get two. Just to be sure. And some chocolate. She’s a bear without chocolate.” He thought for a minute. “Is there anything else you recommend we buy? I sort of feel like celebrating. First time dad and all.”

I watched as Baldie’s features softened. Paul had missed his calling. He was a terrific actor.