More Than One Night

Charlie set down her glass and stood. “Did you have a boy look or a girl look?” she asked as she headed for the bathroom.

“I had a girl look. A really good one. Smarty-pants.”

Charlie paused outside the bathroom. “You decent?”

“Give me five secs. Okay, come in.”

Charlie entered. Gina was standing in front of the open bathroom cabinet, a frown on her face.

“I dare you to find a tampon in there.”

“Watch.” Charlie stepped toward the cabinet, one hand already raised in anticipation of finding what she was looking for. She frowned as her gaze scanned over toiletry and medicinal products and failed to find the familiar pink-and-white box.

“That’s weird,” she said. “They should be in here. I always make sure I restock after my period.”

“Guess you must have forgotten last month, then,” Gina said lightly. “No worries. I’ve probably got one lurking in the bottom of my handbag.”

She slipped past Charlie, who remained staring at the bathroom cabinet, her frown intensifying as she tried to remember when she’d had her last period… and couldn’t.

“Don’t be stupid,” she muttered to herself.

She must be getting mixed up somehow. She could remember having her period in Perth because the cramps had come at exactly the wrong time. Two weeks later, she’d cleared out the flat she’d been sharing with another female officer, packed her bags and flown to Sydney.

And she hadn’t had her period since.

And in the interim, she’d had sex with Rhys-the-unforgettable. Three times in the one night.

Adrenaline fired in her belly, sending a shock wave through her body. She took a step backward, appalled by the thought that had snaked its way into her brain.

“Told you I’d have one,” Gina said as she returned. “Hey. What’s wrong? You’re pale.”

Charlie took another step backward and sank onto the edge of the tub.

“What’s the failure rate for condoms?” Her voice sounded as though it was coming from a long way away. Cleveland, perhaps. Or maybe Moscow.

“I don’t know. Not high. One or two percent, maybe?” Gina was still frowning, but suddenly her eyes rounded and her eyebrows headed for her hairline. “Oh, my God. Tell me you’re not thinking what I think you’re thinking.”

Charlie looked at her friend, her mind busy doing the math and getting the same answer over and over.

“I’ve missed two periods. I’ve been so busy getting everything sorted that I didn’t even notice. That’s why there are no tampons in the cupboard.”

Gina swore and sank onto the bathtub beside her. There was a moment of profound silence as they both processed their own thoughts.

“Okay. First things first—before we hit the panic button, we need to know what we’re panicking about.” Gina looked at her watch. “It’s only four-thirty. The pharmacy around the corner should still be open.”

“Good idea,” Charlie said. She pushed herself to her feet. A wave of anxious dizziness hit her and she sat again.

“I’ll go,” Gina said instantly. “You stay here. Don’t start freaking yet, okay? I’ll run all the way.”

“Okay,” Charlie said meekly.

Gina’s hand dropped onto her shoulder, warm and reassuring. “It could just be stress. Changing your life is a big deal.”

Charlie nodded. Gina gave her a quick squeeze before she slipped past. Charlie stared at a cracked floor tile, her mind ricocheting from one thought to the next.

If she was pregnant…

But she couldn’t be. They’d used condoms. A new one each time…

But condoms failed. That’s why they weren’t one hundred percent foolproof. Still, what were the odds of one of them failing and it being the exact right point in her cycle…?

Big. Too big. Way too big. Huge. She couldn’t even calculate the probability it was so large. She probably had a better chance of winning the lottery.

And yet she’d missed two periods.

“Oh, God,” she said, bracing her elbows on her knees, her head dropping into her hands.

She couldn’t be pregnant. She simply couldn’t. She’d just started her own business. She’d barely unpacked from the move. She was single, in a new city, essentially unemployed if anything went wrong with her business.

She moaned, digging her fingers into her skull.

Please let it be stress. Please let it be stress. Please let it be stress.

The front door slammed and when she looked up Gina was standing before her, a bag in hand. “Okay. I have no idea how these things work, but I’m sure we can figure it out.”

She handed over the bag and Charlie pulled out a slickly branded box. Her hands were shaking so much that she couldn’t pull the flap from the slot and Gina took it from her.

“Whatever happens, we’ll work it out, okay, Charlie?”

Charlie nodded, enormously grateful for her friend’s use of the plural even though she knew in her heart of hearts that if she really was pregnant, the responsibility would land squarely on her shoulders, no matter what she decided to do.

“Okay. We have instructions,” Gina said as she pulled a folded sheet from the box.

They pored over the instructions for a few minutes, then Gina handed Charlie a cellophane-wrapped stick.

“Do your thing,” she said.

Charlie managed a small smile, only letting it drop when her friend left the room. Her stomach knotted with dread, she pulled down her jeans and sat on the loo. For a moment she thought she was going to have to try later, but her body finally came to the party. She followed the instructions and then set the stick on the edge of the vanity while she flushed, pulled up her jeans and washed her hands.

“Okay,” she called.

Gina opened the door and passed Charlie her glass, now brimming with red wine. “For courage.”

Charlie stared at it. “I don’t know if I should. If it’s positive…”

She couldn’t quite bring herself to say the word pregnant yet. But if she was, then alcohol was on the no-go list. Especially in bucket-like quantities.

“Shit. You’re right. Sorry.”