Chapter Ninety

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A moment passes. And then another. I open my mouth but words refuse to leave it. Shock and disbelief trap my voice inside my larynx, and silence ensues on the other end of the phone as well.

When I can speak again, "W-what?" is all I can manage to say, my voice barely above a whisper, so low that I almost don't hear myself say the word. The corners of my lips tilt downwards into a frown and my forehead scrunches itself into a million tiny furrows, all exhibiting the sheer shock and confusion I feel. I must have heard her wrong.

"I...I'm pregnant, Roni," she repeats.

I guess I heard right the first time.

Fuck.

Her voice is much lower and slightly shaky this time, though. It's the first time I've ever heard her sound so unsure.

Unsure and...scared.

"Oh my, God," is my stupid response to that, but I think it's directed more toward myself than her. Still, I want to hit my head against a wall the second the words leave my mouth. The last thing she needs is for me to freak out on her. I'm positive she's already doing plenty of that on her own.

"How do you know?" I quickly add in an effort not to sound so freaked out.

She snorts as if I just made a joke. "Um, there are these things called pregnancy tests, Roni. I used a few," she says, sounding a little more like her usual sarcastic self, but there are still obvious undertones of discomfort in her voice.

"Jesus," I whisper to myself, but I'm sure she can hear me. I try to take a deep breath. She's the one dealing with this situation so I know she needs me to be strong for her, or at the very least not to go ballistic. "So you're sure?"

"Roni, I took like five tests," she says with a chuckle that isn't meant to be humorous. "They all tested positive so unless I bought a really crappy batch of pregnancy tests or some fucked up, invisible fairy keeps throwing fairy dust in my piss...I guess I'm pregnant."

I admire her trying to make light of the situation, and I might have even laughed—if we were talking about someone else being pregnant. But we're not.

"Have you been to a doctor?" I say, and I hate that Frost's image pops into my head as soon as the words leave my mouth. His expertise is not even remotely in the field of gynecology. He wouldn't be able to help. And even if he could, why would I even consider asking for his help? Nothing comes without strings with this guy, and I'm not trying to be anymore indebted to the likes of him than I already am.

"No," Trixie admits after a pause. "I've been too scared to go to one. If I go then it all becomes real, you know?"

I sigh. "Trixie, you just said you tested positive on more than one test. It's already real."

I really hate that my own words sink into my brain as deep as they do, forcing me to contend with a new reality I want to wish away.

God, this was the absolute last thing I expected today—and that's obviously saying a lot considering what I've been anticipating after reading Frost's contract.

Once again, this seriously has to be the most awkward and badly timed conversation in all of history.

I rub at my temple, thinking of what to say next. How in the hell does one have this kind of conversation with their best friend? You'd think it would be easy since we're so close. I just don't want to say the wrong thing or come off insensitive or judgmental. Lord knows I have no right whatsoever to be the latter. Not with where I'm going and what I'm about to do. I mean, fuck, I was literally standing here with a box of condoms in my hands right before she called me.

Be the friend you'd want her to be to you if you confided in her about your situation, the voice in my head urges.

"When did you find out?" I say, trying to sound calm.

She sighs, and I can picture her running her hand through her dark, choppy hair in worry.

"A little over three weeks," she admits.

"What?" I frown again, my forehead creasing once more. "You've known for almost a month and you didn't tell me?"

So much for being calm and sensitive.

But I can't help it. The words leave my mouth before I can stop them, even though I know I should be the last person on the planet questioning her decision to keep something this big a secret. And the critical voice in my head concurs.

You're one to talk, it mocks. You're literally about to go have sex with a married man for money, you have an ugly ass tumor dancing around in your stomach that's been there for God knows how long, and you've been protecting Gina's cheating ass at Bill's expense. Which of the above does Trixie know about? Yeah. Exactly. Nada. And you've been harboring all of those secrets for far more than three weeks.

To be honest, Trixie's a saint for telling me as soon as she did. Hell, she's a saint for telling me at all. She trusts me. That's what a true friend does. Clearly, I have quite a bit to learn in that department.

My thoughts do nothing but depress me and make me feel even more guilty and ashamed about tonight, if that's even possible. Hearing her be this open and vulnerable with me is really throwing me off. I actually have to fight the urge not to just break down crying and blurt out everything about Frost right now. I really wish I could tell her, share the burden and lift some of the heaviness off my slouching shoulders. But I know I can't. And besides, this is about her right now. Not me. So I keep my mouth shut. At least about anything that doesn't concern the situation at hand.

"Well, it's not like you were just foaming at the mouth to talk to me the last time we saw each other," Trixie shoots back, bringing me back to the present, and I have no comeback for that. She's absolutely right. I blew her off, even if I didn't mean to.

"I know, I know. I'm sorry," I say, meaning every word.

There's a small but noticeable pause, and then I hear her sigh deeply, as if she's silently accepting my apology.

And I take that as my opening.

"So...you realized you missed your period?" I say, trying to gently steer the conversation.

"Not at first," she finally says, having calmed down enough to continue talking. "A couple of days after I saw you, I started feeling nauseous, but I chalked it up to food poisoning from some bad sushi I got from the Overground. But a couple of days after that, the nausea came back and it was worse. It kept coming and going randomly and I kept feeling sicker and sicker. I was actually about to go get myself checked out at the campus clinic. That's when it hit me. You know, 'cause I thought about how they always ask you when your last period was. I only realized then that I missed mine twice in a row. I don't even know how the fuck it just slipped by me. How could I have not noticed for two whole months?"

"Trixie, calm down. These things happen a lot more than you think," I say, hoping to make her feel better, and to calm myself down as well. "What did your mom say?" I ask, trying to shift my mental energy away from my issues and focus on her's again.

"I haven't told her," she says, sounding more alarmed when she continues. "And you can't tell anyone! Not Bill, and especially not Drake—"

"Trix, you have to at least tell him—"

"No!" she insists.

My shoulders slouch in partial defeat. "Trix—"

"Promise me, Roni," she says firmly, and I can hear the fear and desperation in her voice. "You can't tell him. Please."

Another long, deep sigh. "Fine," I say after an uncomfortable pause. "I won't tell anyone."

Yet another big secret I've been tasked and sworn to keep. I guess if singing doesn't work out, I could be a professional secret-keeper. Or is professional liar the correct term? I'm obviously a natural at it.

There's one more question I need to ask her. I really don't want to bring it up, but given the situation, it's impossible not to and I have to address the fire engine red elephant in the room—or I guess over the phone, as the case is.

I take a deep breath and brace myself.

"Who's the father?"

***

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