About Last Night.... Michele Dunaway

not pregnant.”

      “Then she’s got a virus. Call me later if you need to, but right now I’ve got to go because I’m way off schedule.”

      “Thanks.” Shane set the phone down and walked back to the bathroom door. “Lindy? Are you all right?” He heard the telltale flushing and then the sound of water running in the sink.

      “I’m fine,” Lindy finally called. “I think it was the salad. The dressing must have had a lot of egg in it. You know I’m allergic to eggs in large amounts.”

      “Bethany says you probably have a virus. You need to rest and take acetaminophen.”

      Lindy opened the door. She looked even paler, if that were possible. Shane was really concerned now. He stepped aside to let her leave the bathroom.

      “Maybe it’s the yearly allergy thing I always get,” she said. “Just a different variation this time.”

      “Or you could be pregnant.”

      HE MEANT IT as a joke to cheer her up, to lighten the moment. She could see the good intentions written all over his face. But his joke wasn’t funny. Could she be pregnant? Fear filled her. Had Shane used a condom? She couldn’t remember. No. She couldn’t be pregnant. Fate couldn’t be so cruel. Sure, she wanted children, but not now. Not like this.

      “I’m not pregnant,” Lindy said, but doubt crept into her mind and took root. After all, she was late. But her cycle being late was nothing new. Not every woman’s cycle ran like clockwork, and Lindy was often as much as fifteen days late. She gave Shane a reassuring smile, although her mind was hardly reassured. “Stop being worried. I’m fine now. I’m sure it was just the egg in the Caesar salad.”

      He didn’t look convinced. “I want you to take the rest of the day off. Go home. Rest. Sleep.”

      “Really, I have those letters to do and—”

      “They’ll wait. I insist you go home.” Shane followed her to her desk. Lindy took a long sip of water. Her stomach again felt queasy.

      “You know I’m going to win this battle,” he said quietly.

      A small smile crept onto Lindy’s face. She did know. When his friend Dan had started having strange symptoms it had been Shane who had insisted Dan go to the hospital. Shane’s paranoia had saved Dan’s life. At moments like this, it was one of his best attributes. Even though she knew she didn’t have meningitis as Dan had, Lindy caved. “You win. I’m going home. I’ll see you in the morning.”

      “Do you want me to drive you?”

      Lindy’s heart overflowed. Sometimes Shane could be so thoughtful. If only—she pushed those fantasies out of her head. In two weeks, she’d be out of Shane’s life forever. She had to remember that she was just his employee. “That’s sweet, but really I’ll be fine.”

      His brow furrowed. “Okay, but if you need anything you call me.”

      “Sure,” Lindy replied. For one last moment she let herself revel in Shane’s concern.

      He smiled at her. “Go home.”

      “Going,” Lindy said. Fifteen minutes later she pulled into the drugstore parking lot. She glanced at herself in the rearview mirror. Before she’d only looked pale. Now she looked afraid.

      Could she be pregnant? Shane’s words had planted the idea in her head, and once she’d gotten to her car she’d thought of nothing else. And she was queasy, throwing up, and late with her monthly cycle.

      She reached up and felt her throat. Her glands were normal. She blinked. This was all going to turn out fine. Just fine.

      She went into the store. Minutes later, she exited with a pregnancy test that promised results in as little as three minutes. She’d also bought a jumbo-size bag of Hershey Kisses, her favorite stress food. After all, it was Murphy’s Law. Be prepared for the worst and it wouldn’t happen to you. Or something like that.

      It seemed like forever, instead of the five minutes it actually took her to reach the parking space at her apartment. She walked up the two flights of stairs to her third-floor apartment. The May day was perfect—sunny, no humidity, in the low seventies. But Lindy couldn’t appreciate anything, not with this cloud of impending doom hanging over her head.

      She dropped the bag of foil-wrapped chocolates on the kitchen counter and headed into the bathroom. After reading the directions, she took the test.

      Her cell phone shrilled and Lindy left the bathroom to get it. Her shoulders slumped as she read the caller ID. Shane. She certainly didn’t need him showing up on her doorstep again. Not today. She answered the call. “Hello.”

      “Hi. I wanted to make sure you got home okay.”

      “I did,” Lindy said. She walked back into the bathroom. The pregnancy test was exactly where she’d left it, lying on the countertop, white plastic on beige Formica.

      Shane’s warm baritone rumbled in her ear. “So how are you feeling? Any better? You’ve crawled into bed, haven’t you?”

      “Uh, yes,” Lindy stammered, her attention diverted by the lines forming in each of the test windows. The pink line in the larger window confirmed the test was complete. The pink line in the other window meant—

      Lindy let her legs collapse out from under her as she slid down the bathroom door. Her rear hit the cool tile and she leaned back against the doorframe.

      “Lindy? Are you feeling better? Do you need anything? I can be there in twenty minutes. I’m worried about you. You are feeling better, right?”

      No. Lindy closed her eyes. She wouldn’t be feeling like herself again for nine months. And she never would be free of Shane Jacobsen. Not when she was having his baby.

      “I’m fine, Shane,” she lied. “I’m just fine.”